Remember October
by beezyland
Summary: Austin Tucker goes from gymnast to bartender, living a comfortable life, running the bar left to him by an old friend. He thinks he has his entire life figured out until Emily Kmetko shows up on his doorstep, beaten, bruised and with a baby. FUTURE-FIC
1. Meet the Usual Suspects

Disclaimer: I don't own anything remotely related to Make It or Break It, but everything unfamiliar and explained in the story is all MINE. Well, technically Faith Giancana is _Life's Crash Test Dummy's _brain-child, but Joey, yup, Joey is all mine.

A/N: I seriously wasn't planning on starting a new story, but I couldn't resist 1.1.11. LOL It just looks so great. Anyways, this is entirely B ushering in the New Year. I think it's going to be pretty freaking awesome if I have anything to say about it.

Warning: This fic contain excess profanity, lots of crude humor, talks of sex and other adult situations, gruesome imagery at times and Austin Tucker telling it like it is. Don't say I didn't warn you. If you aren't turned off thus far, then let's see how deep this rabbit hole goes, shall we?

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-XX-

**Remember October **

**Chapter One  
**

-XX-

Shouting, "drinks on the house!" three times a night sure has made me a lot of friends over the years, but it's also a sure-as-hell-fire track to losing a business and going bankrupt. Then again, I am _the _Austin Tucker. Money doesn't really mean shit to me. It started out as something I cherished, something that showed everything I accomplished early in life and then somehow it became excess, something to burn.

I was once infamously known as _the Austin Tucker_, the bad boy of gymnastics who won his first gold medal with a hangover. If I wasn't known for being the star on the men's team for the good ol' U.S of A then I was known for being God's gift to women, caught between a model on one arm and an actress on the other, smirking between them. I was envied in my prime. It was some of the best times of my life.

Now, pushing thirty and still a bachelor, I'm Austin Tucker, owner and head bartender of October, the coolest bar in downtown Denver. It isn't anything hip or fancy with neon lights and bumping techno music or any of that young crowd crap. It's more like an old-school Irish pub with brick walls and dusty wooden shelves, looking like a scene straight out of an episode of Cheers.

October is a small little corner bar and home to every has-been champion and plain ol' lonely drunk in Denver. The occasional crowd of rowdy college boys will stop in from time to time and drop a load of cash. There's a steady stream of sports junkies that come in to watch the games and give out free high-fives for hours and hours, slapping down bills with their eyes glued to the flatscreens playing sports highlights. Things are never dull. Every night is a new adventure and I wouldn't change a thing even if I could.

Sometimes I think that these days the only thing I'm really infamous for anymore is how freely I give out alcohol. That's probably what draws in the crowds, the rumors about the dude who'll dish out round after round if you get on his good side and bring up the Olympics. It isn't like I'm being taken advantage of or anything. I've got the money to keep the bar running for decades if I want even if the booze going out doesn't balance the money coming in. As long as everyone is happy then I'm happy.

"Aus, some chick named Alexis called for you," a bored voice calls out.

I look down the long stretch of the bar and see my beta, my second in command, Faith Giancana. She's petite and pale, a girl who barely looks like she's legal to drink, let alone take charge (and occasionally dance on) a bar. She's cute as hell with her bright blue eyes and honey blonde hair pulled into two braids that hang over her shoulders. There's something so innocent about her, something that makes it seem like she's only bartending because she needs to, but then she opens her mouth and talks like a dude. She'll tell you that she bartends because she likes it and that's that.

Faith Giancana is a fucking contradiction. One of my favorite things about her.

One thing that makes Faith fit in real well is that she's an ex-gymnast just like me. She has a rep on her, causing scenes and leaving Ellen Beals splitting hairs when she was in her late teens. We swap stories from time to time and I've developed some sort of kinship to the girl. Plus, it doesn't hurt that she can twirl bottles of liquor better than those girls from Coyote Ugly. I was sold the second I met her.

"Austin, wake up!" Faith shouts. Out of the corner of my eye, I see her grab a basket of stale pretzels and throw them at me. I react quickly enough to shield by face, but then there's pretzel pieces flying all over and I see the strawberry blonde grinning innocently at me.

"Whatcha say?" I ask.

"Alex-is," Faith annunciates. She gets off on being a smartass like that. "I don't know the details because I'd die before heading the Austin Tucker Fan Club, but I'm assuming you fucked her and now she wants seconds."

"I don't remember an Alexis," I say. Honestly, I don't.

I still date around. Well, actually, it isn't actual dating, but that sure as hell sounds better than random, casual sex with strangers, which is what it really is. I'll fuck a girl after a good five seconds of flirty eye contact, not even knowing the basics like names, ages and blood alcohol levels. The last thing I want is some bullshit emotional connection. I tried that shit. Once. Twice. Three times. Three Rock girls and fuck no do I want to go back to that, to feeling like that. I think people call it heartache, but I refer to it as the downfall to the best years of my life and not even alcohol can erase that deep-rooted shit.

"Well, regardless of if you remember her or not, she wanted me to tell you that she had a great time the other night. She left you her number and wanted you to know that she's sorry about the broken lamp," Faith recites off a piece of paper. Her face crinkles in distaste. "Eww, your place is a total sex den. Unsanitary, Aus. I hope you at least change the sheets from time to time."

"Yeah, fat chance," another lazy, masculine voice pipes in. "That place is the definition of bachelor pad. Beer bottles galore, a city built entirely out of Chinese takeout boxes, trashcans overflowing with condom wrappers and draws filled with souvenir panties."

Chuckling as he pulls off his jacket to hang on the wooden coat rack by the door is another one of my favorites and a pour smuck that calls me boss – Joey. Another ex-gymnast who couldn't put down a bong long enough to get serious about the sport. Joey is a good-looking guy, light skin and light eyes. He's lean with neatly cut brown hair and a clean shaved face. He has an easygoing energy about him that made my decision to hire him a no-brainer.

"You know what I love? I _love_ when guys don't even pretend they aren't all perverts," Faith says. "It kills the fantasy, but who needs all that fake romantic crap, right?"

Her sarcasm draws a smile across my face. Just more reason to love Faith.

"I could have guessed that about you, actually." Joey smirks. He adjusts the gold chain around his neck as he rounds the side of the bar. "Faith Giancana is the girl who carries magnums in her purse. No bullshit. No strings. Straight up sex. Get it in. Get it done. Never see each other again. My kind of girl."

Hmm. What a charming way to call a girl a slut. That Joey sure is a gentleman. I know how to pick 'em.

"Go through my purse again and I won't hesitate to cut you," Faith says in her sweetest voice.

Seeing the exchange, the way he smirks and she glares, I can't help, but chuckle. Either they a) fucked b) are fucking or c) want to fuck. It probably isn't the best working environment, but it's all too amusing. I don't think I'd break it up even if I should. Boss of the year, I'm sure.

"So Aus, should I add this most recent love note to the rest?" Faith asks. She holds the crumpled piece of paper like a cigarette between her slim fingers, fingernails painted black.

"Yup," I say. No hesitation. I don't even have to think. If I can't remember it then it must not have been that good so I really don't plan on ever calling this Alexis chick. Ever. Sad truth.

I watch as Faith makes her way to a glass box behind the bar that's filled with tiny slips of paper. The Conquest Box, we call it. It's the ultimate little black book of October. Every time someone scores a phone number whether it be scribbled on a napkin or the back of a cigarette carton, and the receiver has no intention of actually reconnecting with the giver, it goes into the Conquest Box.

It's probably a little too late and even a little pathetic to be acting like a college frat boy, but I say fuck it. We get a kick out of it, adding to it, explaining it and even getting the bar patrons to contribute. I say a happy staff is a happy Austin and so the Conquest Box is alive and active.

"We as good as open or what, boss man?" Joey asks.

I look to the clock. Nearly 7 pm. I give him the thumbs-up.

There isn't a crowd stampeding in once Joey pulls back the chain and lifts up the metal gate in front of the door. He unlocks the front and props open the door with a brick. He doesn't come back inside, but instead goes out for a smoke break. Again, probably behavior a normal owner would frown down upon, but Joey always comes back in with a group of giggly girls and to me that's a job well done.

We work from 7 pm to 2:30 am. Well, if you can call it working. It's more a mix of charming unknowing customers into spending more on alcohol. I should probably be behind the scenes in my office, crunching numbers, doing paperwork and finding new ways to promote the bar, but none of that organizational crap is for me. I'd rather work the floor with my bartenders. All party and little business, but that's always been my style.

The one and only rule I've got for my bartenders and me is this: no drinking on the job.

Customers are always trying to buy us drinks, but the last thing I need is my employees getting sloppy. Then I'd end up babysitting and I do enough of that on a regular basis with an actual kid. Seriously.

Tonight starts like every other night.

The same ol' poor saps come in, grab a stool and rant about their less than satisfying lives while refilling glass after glass of whatever is on tap. There's Divorce Guy who sits and rolls his golden wedding band over and over between his wrinkly fingers. Poor bastard got screwed over by love. A hard, violent screwing that was more trouble than it's worth. Dude is so gone that Faith, with her sweetest voice and cutest smile, can't even cheer up the miserable fuck and that's saying something.

There's Sports Guy who's most likely gonna end up dead in a ditch somewhere outside the city when he can't pay up for lost bets. His mood always depends on what's on ESPN at the time. Sometimes he walks in like he owns the joint and other times he's on edge. Apparently he's a buddy of Joey's and I'm yet to decide whether that's his saving grace or downfall.

The Bishop Street Flasher runs in here three times a night. Once at 9 pm, again at 12 am and again at the last call. Every night (minus Sunday, praise the Lord) the skinniest, whitest dude _ever_ in the biggest beige trench coat walks into the bar like a naked man on a mission. If it was Faith he was targeting I'd probably need to kick some serious bare ass, but no, the guy purposefully seeks out Joey, loosens that belt and exposes himself to the bartender and everyone in the general vicinity.

Then the entire thing turns into an episode of Tom and Jerry where Joey in his show of masculinity, chases him as the Flasher runs around the bar, making sounds like those giant ass blue freaks from _Avatar_ that ride those badass sky dragon things. The rest of us just cheer 'em on. Really, the thing is like an attraction at Disneyland. Well, it ain't exactly family-friendly, but entertaining as hell. Definitely.

Then there's the Oz Boys, three strapping young gentleman who don't come for the stale pretzels or cheap (occasionally free) beer, but to ogle Faith. Joey explained it to me once. There's the Tin Man (no heart, just wants in her pants), the Scarecrow (no common sense, thinks he can make an honest woman out of Faith Giancana) and the Cowardly Lion (doesn't have the balls to even talk to her, just sits at the corner of the bar, staring in a way that's borderline stalking).

Then there are the women. We don't get many female regulars other than the handful of clingers that show up to nag Joey or even me about why we haven't called back after promising to. Usually I can work up an at least halfway convincing smile and say some soothing words, letting 'em down gently. It's always Joey getting slapped across the face and occasionally being accused of being a baby daddy.

Over the coarse of a single night, at least a dozen seemingly random things happen at October and this is the kind of life people long for. While other people have their thriving marriages, three kids and suburban homes, I have my bar and my buds and a million different stories that would make nuns blush and ordinary men worship me. I've never really felt that whole 'grass is greener on the other side' ordeal…until _that night_.

"Fifty says in the next five minutes she'll let him finger her in the bathroom…"

I look over at Joey, looking like I've just been shaken free from a dream. Chewing on a toothpick, Joey has the sleeves of his shirt pushed up to his elbows and his forearms resting against the edge of the bar. He has an almost predatory look and when I follow his gaze, I see Faith chatting up a customer.

"Tin Man?" I ask.

Joey nods.

"Nah," I disagree. "She isn't the slut you make her out to be, y'know?"

"She isn't the saint you make her out to be either," Joey says. I know he's only speaking his mind and I've always known that he's a little prick, but something about hearing that strikes a nerve. "So what do you say?"

"Fifty it is," I say. "And when you lose you're closing up on your own tonight."

I see Joey's hesitation, but he's in too deep and too cocky to back down. "Deal."

"Start the clock."

Little things like this aren't anything surprising. We always bet on shit. Sometimes it isn't about money, but maybe chores around the bar or the most embarrassing consequences. One resulted in Faith being a platinum blonde for a month (which wasn't a real consequence because she still looked pretty hot) and another involved a stripper pole and me in some daisy duke shorts. Not one of my finest moments, as you can probably imagine.

Joey looks nervously from the clock on the wall to where Faith is further down the bar. The guy isn't someone I'd imagine Faith with. Overly muscular and proud of it. Too tan, practically orange with the lighting of the bar. Too much gel like he has these rock-formation spikes protruding from his head. She's forcing out these girly giggles and Tin Man is lifting the sleeve of his shirt to showoff a tattoo.

Somewhere in the swirls of black ink and stupid, meaningless design I make out F-A-I-T-H and it makes me grin.

"I got this one in the bag."

"What makes you say that?" Joey asks.

I nod over to where Faith is and her little game of forced flirting for extra dollars to stuff into her bra comes to an end. She pulls back and away from the oblivious dude and her mouth forms a straight line of a smile. Her demeanor is no longer loose and carefree, but freaked the fuck out. Joey finally sees this and turns to me, scratching the back of his head. His eyes are begging me to share my wisdom with him, but I don't think he's ready for that just yet.

I will offer him something, though.

"See," I say. "Maybe you should take the time to get to know her before making judgment calls, huh?"

"Sure thing, Wizard." Joey smirks.

Inwardly, I groan. Lesson not learned.

"Just go over and save her," I say, giving him a small shove. "You're still closing and I still want my fifty, but I won't make you mop the floor or clean out the bathrooms like originally intended. And do it discretely, will yah? The last thing I need right now is to break up a bar fight."

"Sure thing, boss," he says, saluting me.

With a nearby rag, I start clearing off the table when a group of girls near the back tables catch my attention. Four of them sit there – exactly four – two dark-haired girls and two blondes, a collection of smiles and giggles between them. Their happy laughter echoes in my head and I get this horrible feeling deep within. I can't bear to look at them any longer. They look nothing like the ghosts of my past, but the setup and the sounds hit too close to home. At a quick glance it all seems too familiar. My throat seals shut and a cold sweat breaks across my forehead.

There were four girls in my past that changed my life – changed _who I am_. Whether it was for the best or for the worst is still unclear even to me.

"Aus, the crazy bastard got a tattoo of my name on his arm! And right above the name of his ex who he lovingly promised me he's getting removed!" Faith shouts. Suddenly I feel Faith's warm presence at my side and I'm happy for the distraction. I shift my eyes away from the table of strangers and to my friend. From past to present in a blink.

"I bet that tat was henna," Joey says. "No way a guy like that would do something that desperate for one chick he doesn't even know."

"Let's hope so." She scoffs. "I told him to get lost and he actually looked confused."

Faith looks at me in this way that I've never seen before. She looks at me like I'm a painting or something hanging in one of those fancy museums. Like every detail of my face is a brush stroke, telling her something new about me. Frankly, it freaks me the fuck out. Mostly because once she looks at me _like that_ then the inevitable happens.

As expected, she asks, "What's wrong, Aus?"

"Early morning and a long night," I reply. Faith gives me this look, telling me she isn't buying any of my bullshit, which she seldom does. I rub my hand down my face and lean down against the bar.

"Why don't you head upstairs and call it an early night?" Faith suggests. She doesn't push for answers and it usually means I should be worried, but for some reason, I feel like all my energy is just gone. Faith gets this cocky look on her face and lightly hits my arm. "Go. I'll make sure the place doesn't burn to the ground."

"Actually, Joey promised to close all on his own tonight," I say. Looking over at Joey, he's inwardly fuming, but doesn't say a thing. "So in half an hour we can both get the hell out of here."

"Sounds like a plan," Faith sings. She taps her fingernails against bar. "Sooo Nicky and Kelly tell me you haven't been answering either of their calls lately."

Austin rolls his eyes. "Kelly Parker is worse than a mother. I ignore one of her phone calls because I'm driving and I kinda sorta...forget to call her back and she treats it like a national disaster."

"Don't I know it," Faith says. "Just call her and remember tomorrow is your day with Parker."

"Noted."

We finish out the night and before I head up to my place above the bar, I walk Faith to her car out in the alley. That's when she nearly jumps me, hugs me tighter than ever before. I'd never admit it, but that's exactly what I needed especially with the way the day's been going. The closeness and innocence, something so foreign in a world that's so tainted, where people think they're close, but really aren't at all. She hugs like she knows me and understands me and sometimes she even makes me believe it.

After watching Faith drive away, I head up to my apartment above the bar. It's nice and spacious, used to be a dance studio or something before I inherited the bar and bought out the rest of the building. Then I called up my people and had the entire thing renovated and redecorated with modern furniture and high-end designs. The place would probably look impressive and expensive if I wasn't such a pig and my apartment wasn't such a pigsty.

I finally pop back the tab of my beer and sit around, watching some lame ass cop drama that's on at nearly 3 am. The bottles start filling up the table and I don't know what the fuck is going on in the show so inevitable I start to drift off. When I snap back awake it feels like mere minutes, but it's been at least an hour. Infomercials are all that's on the television screen, the only sense of light in the entire apartment.

Oh shit. It's too late to call Kelly. Fuck. She's going to enjoy bitching me out come noon.

Right when I'm about to pull off my shirt and head for my bedroom, the sound of violent, frantic knocking stops me. Who the hell could that be especially this late at night/early in the morning?

I have half a mind to just ignore it, but then the sound of a baby crying mixes in with the knocking and I can't help, but think it's Kelly Parker, here to bitch me out in person, not having the patience to wait until I'm awake and coherent. She has to do it right here and right now. Bitch may be one of my best friends, but she's a fucking nut job.

Walking to the door, I can't help, but drag my feet that feel as heavy as my eyelids. I unlatch the locks on the door and slowly yank it open, ready to slam it again if it is indeed Kelly Parker or a booty call, too tired to deal with either. Instead, the unexpected happens and I see someone that brings me back to being a young gymnast, living in boring Boulder of all fucking places.

Her face is pale and her limbs seem longer and more awkwardly gangly, but maybe that's because she's just so fucking thin that it seems that way. Her hair is longer than I remember, but just as dark. She's looking down with her hair in her face, her eyes and even part of her nose concealed, but I'd know those lips anywhere. Soft. Pink. Kissable.

The one thing that strikes me is the blanketed bundle in her arms. _A baby_.

I rub my eyes just to make sure this is actually real.

She looks up at me and I almost gasp out loud like a fucking pansy ass loser in a soap opera. She's bleeding from a cut on her corner of her lips and the whole side of her face is swollen, barely being able to open her left eye. Despite this, seeing me, her brown eyes brighten and her lips, those lips I've dreamed about for fucking forever, curve into the smallest of smiles.

"Austin," she murmurs.

After she says my name, her long legs seem to give out and the baby wails as I catch her in my arms.

Emily Kmetko changed my life once before in a train station in France and I have a feeling she's about to do it again here on my doorstep.

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A/N: Please review and tell me what you think. Happy 2011 everyone!

xoxo


	2. Parker, Earmuffs

Warning: This fic contain excess profanity, lots of crude humor, talks of sex and other adult situations, gruesome imagery at times and Austin Tucker telling it like it is. Don't say I didn't warn you. If you aren't turned off thus far, then let's see how deep this rabbit hole goes, shall we?

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**-XX-**

**Remember October**

**Chapter Two**

Emily Kmetko.

I remember the first time I saw her. No. Not at the train station. Further back. Not even out in front of that hotel in France, overlooking the National Champion's huff of annoyance when I didn't realize who she was. Even Before that. Before I put down roots in Boulder, before I made her earn that train ticket, before I fell in love (apparently, three times) at the Rock.

She started out just as a name. That's all. Just a name riding the lips of a fellow gymnast, talking about Marty's newest charity case out in Colorado. Emily Kmetko. She peaked my interest instantly. A new, dark horse wildcard entering the game, taken under the wing of a legend. A girl that taught herself the basics on a playground now training with girls whose mommies and daddies feed the gym fat checks like it's that easy. Like money is just six-digit numbers to be bartered. As someone who started with nothing and stole everything, I was intrigued before I even saw her face.

The first time I did see her was in Hollywood. Out on the red carpet.

I remember standing to the side, thinking to myself _what children_. These gymnasts who have a couple good runs at Nationals and suddenly think they have a shot at taking the world. I already owned the world. Austin Tucker was King. I was merely letting the children play dress-up, have their fifteen minutes of fame out of the ongoing Hollywood movie with contracted sequels that was my life.

Though I didn't know that's who she was back then, Emily Kmetko looked so overwhelmed in her pretty dress, looking wearily at the reporters and photographers. She didn't shine at Nationals like the Pedigree Princess Cruz, hamming it up for the cameras, even going as far as to kiss some dude for the cameras. She didn't walk with confidence the way Payson Keeler did, the girl who fucking fall and broke her back, but still had the metaphorical lady-balls to face the public.

Emily Kmetko shied away from the cameras and the promises of fame and along with it –corruption. She looked like she didn't want it, like she could care less if pictures of her were magnified by a thousand and plastered on billboards. Could it be? Is it really in existence, a gymnast who didn't do it for the money or the fame or the acclaim, but because she genuinely loved the sport? God forbid.

When I was at the Rock, we started out as _just friends_ and that's what already set her apart in my subconscious. I never started out as friends with a girl. There's the girls I know I'm going to sleep with, the arm candy, one night stands, fake girlfriends to boost my image, girls I know to stay away from because they spell disaster, the damsels in distress that need me and would eventually let me get it. Emily Kmetko was different.

It's too bad shit got all crazy towards the end of my stay at the Rock. If not, _everything_ could have been different.

When I wake up the next morning, it's early. I'm on the sofa because I let Emily and the baby take my bed. There's a dull ache in my neck and my shoulders are stiff, but considering I've got a girl who looks to be in bad shape in my bed, a little sore neck is the least of my worries. I go straight to the bathroom and take care of business, popping some aspirin and shuffle things around, trying to make it look like I'm less of a slob than I really am.

When I walk back into the living area, kicking shit aside to create paths through the clutter, I see my bedroom door ajar and a little face peaking out at me. God, she's adorable. She looks to be a little over a year old, big brown eyes, a little pink mouth and porcelain skin. She has gentle ways of brown hair and looks up at me with the curiosity that only a child could have.

"Hey there," I say gently.

She continues to stare. I hold out my hand, but before she can react, the doorbell rings. The little girl scurries back into the darkness of my bedroom and back to her mother (or at least, shit, I think Kmetko is her mother) and I go to answer the door. When I pull it open, I'm met with petite woman, eyes shielded by sunglasses, glossy pink lips, dark brown hair, a sexy little dress and heels that no hot chick holding a child should be wearing.

"Kel, you're too hot to be a mom," I say. Instincts, I tell you.

"Eat me," she says irritably.

"Well now, I'm assuming that's Nicky's job considering you trapped him by getting preggers and I'm also assuming it's going down some time today if you're leaving your kid with me," I reply. Just a hint of a smile. It always drives her crazy and when I say that, I mean crazy enough to bitch me out (so hot) but not enough to consider homicide. At least, I hope.

"You know, I don't know if it's a good idea leaving my baby boy with such a prick," Kelly says. She adjusts her arms that carry a toddler, one of my favorite miniature humans in the world.

Parker Martin Russo. Yup, as in the son of Kelly Parker and Nicky Russo. I was literally there the day the kid was born, holding the video camera in one hand a sandwich from Subway (remember when this shit used to be $5 in like '10? I say bring it back, Sub gods, bring it back). Between bites of a Cold Cut Trio, I played cameraman, taped Kelly cussed at every moving thing and Nicky flipping out. Entertainment at it's best. I was so ready to pawn that shit off to some gymnastics fanatic, but the proud parents stole the only copy before I could.

I was seriously like, what the fuck, about the kid's name, but it was something about Kelly wanting him to take her last name and Nicky fighting tooth and nail for him to have his last name and they compromised. At least Nicky can rest assured Kelly can't get pissed off at him and change their son's name. Parker Parker. Now that would be fucking weird.

The kid is a real looker. Frankly, since they aren't all standing here together, I can't really tell you who he looks more like or what he inherited from which parent, but he is cute as hell. Like cute like them kids in commercials or photos in the windows at Baby Gap. Parker is eighteen-months old and already smart (I'm assuming he got that from Nicky for obvious reasons) and a talker (and that from Kelly, again, obvious). By the time he hits pre-school I'm sure he'll have all the little girls chasing him because the swagger, that's what he's getting from Uncle Austin.

"Aww, Kel, you know I'm a fantastic role model for the Oops Baby," I coos. I open my arms wide and Parker instantly leans forward, wanting his Uncle Austin. Kelly gives in and I take the kid in my arms, holding him up over my head and toss him gently, up and down, until he laughs. Man, the kid laughs just like Nicky, but cuter. A sound that's brief and low, separated into two syllables. Heh-heh. Hysterical.

Looking over at her son, Kelly wears the biggest, most proud grin I've ever seen on her and all he's doing is laughing. Can you imagine if (more like when) the kid starts his gymnastics training? You can already tell both Kelly and Nicky can't hardly wait.

Continuing to smile, Kelly reaches out and pokes me sharply in the chest. Fucking hurt too. "Parker, who's this? What's his name?"

The little boy looks me right in the eyes before his tiny mouth forms a smile. "Aus."

"Yeah, what a smartie," I says, ruffling his crazy dark hair – something he (unfortunately) got from Nicky. I then look over at Kelly who's still admiring her son with such a big smile on her face. And I used to think this chick was a horrible mom. "So where's his daddy?"

"Where else?" Kelly shoots back. "Denver Elite. There's this new girl coming into the gym today to check it out. Nick thinks that if we can get her to train at DE then the team will be untouchable at Nationals. I swear, with how much time Nick spends there you'd think that gym is his firstborn child and not Parker."

Nicky Russo and Kelly Parker. They are to the gymnastics world what fucking Brad and Angelina are to the celebrity one. Who would of thought, huh? The second fiddles would eventually rule the gymnastics realm and have a fucking cute kid.

(Comment on how much I say 'cute' and I'll punch you the fuck out. Parker Junior just _is_. It's fact.)

"Not that I don't love the kid, but why am I watching him again?" I ask.

I already know the answer (it's always the same ol' story) but I like hearing her say it.

"We're in-between sitters."

Fun fact: Kelly Parker has fired a grand total of thirteen sitters in the last five, maybe six months (seven of whom I considered fucking and three who I actually did). She let 'em all go for the smallest, stupidest details like how Parker reacted to them or her getting a "bad vibe" when really I know it's because she caught 'em trying to eye-fuck an always oblivious Nicky boy. Kelly Parker is scary protective and territorial. Probably why she's such a great mom.

"Enough said," I tell her. I look at the little boy in my arms and make a face just to hear his laugh again. "Parker, earmuffs. Show Uncle Aus earmuffs."

After a moment of staring blankly, Parker places his little hands over his ears. Kelly and I immediately erupt with celebratory cheer. I'm so glad I taught that to him. It makes me feel a little less bad about being me and asking what I'm about to ask next.

"So is Parker staying the night so you and Russo can have your freaky-monogamous-yet-too-chicken-shit-to-call-it-commitment sex?"

They fucking love each other, but are too socially inept (gee, thanks gymnastics) to see it.

I know firsthand because Kelly told me once. Granted, she was halfway to wasted, but alcohol brings out the truth, right? It was last Thanksgiving and Kelly and me were standing outside Parker's bedroom, watching Nicky put him to bed. Parker always does this little spaz thing when he's half-asleep right before you lay him down. He'll put his little hand on your face or grab your arm because he constantly needs to know that someone is there with him. The kid isn't even two yet and he even knows the importance and obsessive necessity of human connection. It amazes me every time.

But back to what I was saying, Buzzed-Kelly, who isn't as fun as Drunk-Kelly but is _way_ more fun than I-Still-Rule-Denver-Bitch-Kelly, admits to me that the father of her son is the type of man that women fucking dream of "trapping" as I like to call it. As much as she wants to cuddle and fuss over Parker, she's happy to hand him over to Nicky and just watch them together. Parker copies the sounds Nicky makes and when he wants daddy's attention, Parker will yell his nonsense (just like his mom) and even resort to grabbing Nicky's face because, duh, he's a Parker, _the_ Parker, and that automatically makes Nicky Russo his bitch (again, takes after mom). God save him because Nicky loves it. He loves Parker and Kelly.

And so I take Parker off their hands for a night from time to time and I let them have their time where Nicky doesn't even mention the gym once and Kelly wears strictly sexy shit and it isn't just primitive fucking, but appreciated and worshiping the crap out of each other. After all, Parker got here thanks to them and their freaky monogamous (because they totally weren't fucking other people at the time no matter that they say) yet too chicken shit to call it commitment sex.

Now it isn't just something they just do to relieve stress or end an argument or 'cuz they were bored like when we were younger. They have an utmost respect for sex. Good for them. At least someone does.

"Austin, you say the most idiotic shit, I swear," Kelly says. She sounds so annoyed that she might try to blow her brains out with a handgun, but deep down, I know she loves it.

I chuckle. If only she heard the shit I think.

"Hey now," I say. "I'm just trying to stay updated on your life."

"My life is good. Busy. Hectic, but good," Kelly replies. She pushes her fingers through her dark locks and brings her sunglasses up to rest in her hair. "Believe me. I'd die for just one nigh where we can just sit in the bar and drink like we used to."

"Me too," I confess. "My barstools miss your fine ass."

"Wow, you're gross." Kelly scoffs. "God, and the way you'd convince stupid, drunk me to put hundred dollar bills in your tip jar."

"Or sometimes down Faith's shirt," I remind her, wiggling my eyebrows. "Not like I needed the money. Mostly for kicks."

We've got a great momentum of conversation working here and Kelly is right about to say something else when there's a piercing toddler cry from inside the apartment. It grabs everyone's attention and even Parker's as he removes his palms from over his ears and looks around to find the source of the sound.

"Parker, baby, earmuffs," Kelly says sweetly. She holds both hands up to cover her ears and her son does the same yet again. Then comes the bitching. "Austin Tucker, don't tell me you banged a crack whore while her crack baby was in the apartment! What is wrong with you? That's just plain sick."

"The kid is not a crack baby and she isn't a crack whore and I didn't bang her," I say defensively. "It's…it's Emily Kmetko."

"Move," Kelly says simply.

"No."

"Austin, get out of my way," she says. More like demands, really. "This is serious and, don't take this the wrong way. No. Wait. Take it in whatever way gets through your thick skull. You are not ready for this kind of thing. She obviously wants something and knowing you you're going to give it to her and then you're going to get screwed over."

"Gee, Kel, your concern and faith in me is real flattering," I say. Sarcastically. Duh. "Look. She's my friend and she obviously needs help."

"She isn't your friend. Nick and I are your friends, Austin. Faith is your friend and maybe even that other bartender, the sleazy one that works her shift. He's more of a friend to you than Emily Kmetko," Kelly argues. "You don't even know her anymore."

Kelly does have her point. Man, I hate it when she makes her point.

"You'll scare her off," I say dejectedly.

"That's sort of the point."

"No." I shake my head. "I'll deal with it my way."

"And when the sh—" Kelly stops herself, looking over at her son who has his tiny E.T-like fingers tangled curled around the collar of my shirt, picking at the cotton, fascinated. "When it all goes wrong, then what?"

I groan and lean against in the doorframe. "Then you get to say the dreaded I.T.Y.S."

"Yeah, then I kick your A.S.S," Kelly says and jabs me hard in the shoulder. Despite the fact that it really does fucking hurt, I smile. "Just know that you have to answer to Nick. He isn't going to like this."

"He'll get over it," I assure her. "Kids pretty much equal cockblock. He should be used to it."

"Uh-huh. And when I call you, don't think I won't, answer the phone so I don't have to drive all the way over here again," Kelly says. "Now, Parker, say goodbye to Uncle Aus."

Pointing his little index finger at me, Parker beams and exclaims, "Aus!"

"Good job," I murmur. Kissing the top of his head, I hug him tight and Parker jams his little body against mine, hugging back. "You know, I can deal with all of this and still take him off your hands if you want. Getting laid always makes you act like less of a…you know. Plus, it'll be like his first double date with Uncle Aus to show him the ropes."

"Are _you_ on crack?" she asks. "Never. Not in a million years. Now put him down."

"Fine," I relent. Gently, I place the little guy back down on his feet to stand beside his mother and Kelly takes hold of his hand. "I'll call you tonight when I actually have something to report on."

"You better," Kelly responds. Right as she's about to turn away, Kelly stops and gives me this look. I know it well. "And for God's sake, be smart about this, Austin. It's been a long time. There's no telling where she's been or what she's into…and my guess is hard drugs."

"Kelly…"

"Bye Uncle Aus," she says sweetly.

I stand in the doorway a while longer, watching Kelly usher her toddler down the metal steps and out onto the street. Parker turns to look back at me and he wiggles his fingers in a wave. I lift my hand and wave back.

Kids fascinate me. They're like those fun size candy bars compares to the real deal. I've known that kid from the second he was born and watched him grow. I listened to Kelly complain about breast-feeding and watched Parker transition from formula milk to holding his own spoon (usually upside down) and insisting on feeding himself. I got a kick out of referring to Parker's onesies as "leotards." Sure, sometimes it makes me think I could possibly have a kid of my own, but other times, after taking care of Parker, I'm glad I get to return him at the end of the day.

After seeing Kelly and Parker get back to their car safely, I go inside my apartment and the crying has stopped. There's no little girl in sight.

"Shit."

Then I hear the sound of the shower and the door leading to the bathroom is shut. Peaking into my bedroom, Emily is no longer asleep on my bed and the bag she had with her last night isn't on the counter where I left it. I relax a little, assuming the kid is in the bathroom with Emily.

All I can do is wait. Wait and pray to God that Kelly Parker is wrong about this. One can only hope.

* * *

A/N: Thank God that it's TV Thursday because I'm _sad_. If you know/read _Life, Love and Denim_ (which you totally should if you don't because I'm a co-author and you love me) LCTD just wrote a part close to the end and I threw the hugest tantrum after I read it. I know. Mature, right? But you'll tantrum-it-up when you read it too, swears. It's beautifully written (like everything she writes – that freak of nature) but so _tragic_. Like someone took a sharp stick and stabbed my heart. _Repeatedly_. Someone...fix me.

Anyways, reviews could possibly make me happier so, will you?


	3. Silence

Warning: This fic contain excess profanity, lots of crude humor, talks of sex and other adult situations, gruesome imagery at times and Austin Tucker telling it like it is. Don't say I didn't warn you. If you aren't turned off thus far, then let's see how deep this rabbit hole goes, shall we?

* * *

**-XX-**

**Remember October**

**Chapter Three**

There isn't shit to eat in my apartment.

While Emily and the kid are in the bathroom, I try to tidy up a bit—clear away all the empty bottles and cans of beer, make sure all the porn is out of sight and out of reach—stuff like that. I then go through the kitchen. There are boxes and boxes of cereal, but the milk expired two weeks ago. There's a bag of jellybeans on the counter (after Faith picked out all the French vanilla and Joey the toasted marshmallow and KP told them to grow up) but I don't think Kmetko would be real impressed by my personal form of breakfast for champions.

I don't usually have food in the apartment because I either eat out or Joey experiments in the bar kitchen and that fills my meals for the day. He's kind of a genius when it comes to putting random shit together and calling it food. He's no Iron Chef, but I'll eat it and Faith even eats it and she's the biggest critic ever. He makes these maple infused fried donut things encrusted with bits of bacon. Heaven on a plate, but probably hell for the cholesterol.

When Parker spends the day with me, he comes equip with his own food separated in different plastic containers and a schedule for when I should be feeding him. Thank god his parents take care of all that. Once I had to Google whether or not I could give him jellybeans and I found out you aren't supposed to give kids hard candies till they're four. Shit. I avoided a potential disaster. Thank Google.

After sending one last look over to the bathroom where the shower is still running, I walk to the front door, headed for the bar. There's usually a lot more variety in that kitchen because, for one, that kitchen actually gets used unlike mine. I can't even remember the last time I turned on a burner.

I step outside and it's a beautiful, chilly day in Denver. Closing the door behind me, I head down the stairs and end up in the alleyway. I go to the backdoor of the bar and inside. Right as I'm about to make my way into the kitchen and raid the fridge I see a pair of bare, man feet hanging out of one of the booths. Walking over, I see it's just Joey asleep on the faded booth cushion, an issue of Maxim facedown on his flat stomach. How classy.

"Joey," I grunt. "Just because you strikeout with chicks at last call doesn't mean it's an open invitation to crash here."

He doesn't move, doesn't even react and so I grab the magazine, roll it up and hit him with it.

"What the fuck?" Joey shouts, sitting up and shaking his balled fists. I just smile and smack him across the back of his head for good measure. Recognition reflects in his bleary eyes and his body slumps forward, relaxing. "Oh, hey T-Money."

"What do you think you're doing?" Austin asks. "Go home."

"Fuck, man, I share a three bedroom apartment with four other dudes, two of which are 'in love' and I totally support 'em, but I mean, must they fuck and fuck so loudly when the walls are so fucking thin?" Joey asks, rubbing at his eyes and scraping his short fingernails over his prickly head of hair.

"I feel for you man, but that still doesn't mean you can sleep in the bar. As if we can't get any more unprofessional," I say. After hitting him one last time with the magazine, I drop it into his lap, shake my head and start walking toward the kitchen. "And if you even think of trying to take a shower in the bathroom sink again I will fire your ass, Joey."

"Fuck Faith, man. She is such a snitch," he gruffly replies. "So can I at least run upstairs and use your actual shower? I do have a day job to get to."

"Day job" is an odd term for it. He walks dogs and bangs the owners' wives in front of the dogs.

On any other given day, if my apartment were empty I give him the go ahead without another thought. Even if there were some clingy slut in my bed I'd send Joey right on up and tell him to kick her out before or after his shower, which he would and knowing Joey, he'd probably get her number too. Not this time, though. Not with Emily up there, looking like she just got put through the ringer and the kid with her.

So I answer with a firm, "No."

Joey raises his brows in question. It only takes a couple seconds of squinting his eyes at me before the perceptive bastard puts on a sly grin. "Who's up there? She hot? She must be if you haven't tossed her out yet and you don't want _me _meeting her."

"You think so fucking highly of yourself, don't yah?"

He puts on that lady-killer grin. "Well, T, look at me. I'm a prince."

Clean-cut, arrogant and charming. All he's missing is the crowd and, well, the royal parents and the palace. The fucker is sleeping in my bar and trying to take showers in the sink, after all.

"She's a friend," I finally tell him. Joey looks like he's about to congratulate me or something, a pat on the back maybe, but then I add, "And she's got her kid with her. Around Parker's age, which is why you aren't going up there. Prince or not, we don't need a tool like you around impressionable kids."

All his previous excitement fades from his face. Joey isn't a kid person. He wasn't around when Kelly was pregnant or the first couple months after Parker was born. Things were more hectic back then and both Nicky and Kelly were way in over their heads so Faith and I jumped in. We all raised that kid together, pretty much, and we're all attached as fuck. Joey is relatively new to the family and he isn't a big fan of miniature humans. Actually, if you ask me I think he's afraid of 'em.

"Can't argue with that, chief," Joey agrees. "So whatcha doing down here?"

"I came down lookin' for anything edible," I say.

"I can look through the fridge and see what I can whip up for yah, boss," Joey volunteers. He slides out of the booth and stands up, stretching his arms out to the ceiling. He does a few quick, sloppy jumping jacks before grabbing his elbow and stretching his arm across his chest.

We go to the kitchen behind the bar and it's a lot cleaner than one would imagine. At least we got that right. Even if the health inspector wasn't a buddy of Joey's and a fan of mine, I still think October would've met regulations. With a grunt, I push myself to sit atop the cold metal counter as Joey whistles, looking inside the refrigerator.

"We're in luck. Faith actually went to the grocery store on time for once," Joey announces. He pulls out a carton of eggs, a gallon of milk and a tray of bacon. "So who's your friend upstairs? No offense or anything, but I didn't know you had friend other than Faith, Nicky and Kelly."

"I don't. Not really. It's just an old friend from the ol' gymnastics days." I try to make it painfully obvious that I don't want to talk about it, watching the way Joey moves around the kitchen, loading a tray of bacon into the oven and pulling out a loaf of bread from the cupboard.

Apparently, Joey doesn't get the message because he goes on, "Ooh, being all mysterious, eh? You gonna make me guess who it is? I know. Payson Keeler."

I inwardly wince just at the sound of her name. A part of wishes that were true, that it really is Payson up in my apartment and the rest of me hates myself for wanting that.

"Nope."

Joey scratches his chin, looking confused for a second, but then it's as if his hands go into autopilot, expertly maneuvering the different knobs of the stove and the different pans on multiple burners. I want to tell him all this shit in my head, but then again, I don't. No one but me should be thinking of all this. To unload it off of me and on to someone else so carelessly would be selfish.

I reach over and turn on the radio and play around with the knob until I find a Broncos vs. Seahawks game. Joey is a notorious football fan (even went as far as to break out the body paint once) and he listens intently as he cooks. Thank God. It gives me time to relax and it stops him from asking questions.

Not too long after and Joey has all the food cooked and laid out neatly on plates that he put out on a serving tray. Eggs, bacon, toast and French toast with glasses of pulp-free orange juice. He looks down at it, like an artist would a masterpiece, grinning. I don't get it. It's just food. With the way I eat, it'd probably be gone in ten seconds if it weren't for Emily and the kid upstairs. But whatever floats your boat, right?

"I appreciate this, man," I tell him, sliding the tray to rest on my forearm. "You work tonight?"

"Not here. My night off," Joey says. "And I'm about to do it up right. Hit the club with my boys. It's going to be insane. You wanna come with?"

I shake my head. As if I didn't spend enough time lost in that scene when I was younger.

Joey shrugs. "Suit yourself."

I set the coffee maker because even I can frickin' do that and we knock back a couple before Joey heads out and I head upstairs. A sickening feeling stirs in my stomach, anticipation maybe, as I balance the tray on one arm. The idea that she's gone already flashes through my head and it scares me half to death. Emily Kmetko has never said a word to me that broke me down as much as it did when she left the first time and didn't even say anything to me. She didn't even think I was important enough to tell beforehand.

Right before walking inside, I pause at the door, right where Kelly reprimanded me not too long ago. I stop and I think for a second. What the fuck is going on? If she is still inside, with that kid, what am I going to say? What's she going to say? Do I even want to hear it? Do I even want to know?

At that point, I'm ready to run back downstairs and hide out in the bar until she gets the hint and leaves on her own. If Emily is still the same Emily I remember, she wouldn't even need the hint. She'd be running without even having to be told. Right as I take a step back, I step forward again. Maybe she's changed. I sure have. Hopefully she's had better luck than me and actually changed for the better instead of the worse.

Before I could make a real decision, the door swings open and we come face-to-face. Just the sight of her chases away all my fears. From the look on her face, seeing me has the opposite effect. It brings all her fears to the surface.

For a moment we just stare, lost in a contest of chasing gazes, my eyes dashing from her deep, dark eyes to the purple hue on her cheeks and her looking between my face and the tray of food. She doesn't want to look me in the eyes. That alone hurts more than it fucking should.

"Going somewhere?" I finally ask her.

"I, um, I didn't…" Her soft voice trails off, fingers picking at the edge of the tiny shirt the tiny human in her arms is wearing. Her eyes move down to the floor and I feel every part of me pulsing, aching to reach out and lift her chin so her eyes will finally meet mine, but even I know when boundaries are necessary.

Before she can say anything else, I lift the tray to give her a better look. "Breakfast?"

She gives me the smallest of smiles. "Technically, it's more like brunch."

Smiling back, I agree, "Brunch it is."

Emily steps back and I follow her into my apartment and straight to the dinning room table. After setting down the tray of food, I go over to the space between the refrigerator and the counter, the designated parking spot for Parker's highchair.

I got it off Craig's List, but don't tell Kelly. She thinks I bought a proper one from Babies R Us or some shit, but dude, why buy some new thing he's gonna grow out of in a couple months when I can get one free that works fine? So what if the people I got it from were totally sketchy? Super Couple and Oops Baby don't even ever have to know.

"You have kids?" Emily asks as she situates the little porcelain doll of a child into the seat. She looks surprised and I don't blame her. I mean, the idea of me being the blame for a child doesn't seem so surprising, but me being a father and having baby stuff all around my bachelor pad would come as a shock to even me.

"Nah, I am an uncle though," I say, settle down at the table across from Emily.

Emily's eyes widen. "Your sister?"

I chuckle at the mere idea. My sister? A mother? Fuck that.

"No. Hopefully that won't be the case for a long time now," I say. As Emily starts feeding bits of eggs and bread to the little girl, I dig my phone out of my pocket and scroll through the pictures on there, looking for one at least halfway descent. It's harder than it sounds. So much booze and cleavage and platonic kisses and shenanigans all caught by crappy cell phone snapshots.

When I finally find one, it makes me smile just at the sight. It's from two months ago, one of our "Family nights" where we stay in and chill, the four of us and Parker, watching a couple of movies and unwinding. Then once Parker is fast asleep, we bust out the alcohol and drink till we're silly and watch the stars and talk about how life could have been different, how we could have been different in another universe.

Faith and Nicky usually bake something, her with enthusiasm and him feeling bad because Kelly refuses to be in a kitchen with Faith after the last egg yoke in the eye incident. Then with Elmo playing in the background, Kelly knits and I entertain the boy. She barks that I'm being too rough with him as I toss him around and tickle his sides, but Parker does that cute, weird sounding laugh thing and it's usually enough to ignore his overprotective mom.

The quality isn't great, a little blurry, but it does its job. In the photo, Kelly and Nicky are sitting on a couch with Parker on his daddy's lap and Faith sitting on Kelly. I'm sitting on the floor with my back against the bottom of the couch, Faith's hands resting on my shoulder. We're all smiling and this is pre-wasted so you can bet it's genuine. It reminds me that I made managed to pull myself together and be apart of something post-Boulder and these five would never hurt me the way those Rock Girls did.

Shoving all these thoughts away for the moment, I hold the phone out for Emily to see before picking up a piece of bacon to munch on.

Her eyes go even wider than the last time. "That's Nicky. Nicky Russo and…Kelly Parker, but…whose baby is that?"

"Kelly and Nicky's kid," I say. "He's my godson. Quite the looker if I do say so myself."

"And Kelly Parker and Nicky Russo are…together…?"

"As good as, yeah," I reply. Truthfully, it's more complicated than that, but it isn't something I'm about to get into right now. "They're parents, pretty damn good ones too, and they run Denver Elite now."

"Wow," Emily murmurs, handing the phone back. "So you guys are like a little Denver family?"

"That's exactly what we are."

Emily nods her head and stares down at her plate, picking at the food. As I sit there in my chair, I can't help, but watch her. She looks so grown up and so different from that teenage girl I once knew, but at the same time, it's still her and I can still tell it's her. The bruises and the sad eyes are major distractions, but the need to take her hand in and feel those slim fingers laced through mine is even more distracting.

"So, um, who's this?" I nod towards the little angel who has bits of food all on her face. When she looks over at her, a warm, maternal expression takes Emily's face as she leans over with a napkin and cleans off the baby's cheeks.

Emily hesitates for a second before she answers, "Austin, this is my daughter, Jillian. We call her Jillie."

Also leaning forward, closer towards her, I murmur, "Hello there."

I hold my finger out to her and she doesn't hesitate to grasps it. Without even meaning to, I start to grin and glance over at Emily who smiles back.

"Damon is her father incase you were wondering," Emily says. Thank God too. Saves me the trouble of having to ask and potentially looking like a douche.

"So where is daddy?" I ask, leaning back into my chair.

"Working as always," Emily says bitterly.

Just the tone of her voice makes the conversation take a turn for the worst and I struggle to think of something else, something lighter. This is what I do. I distract and I ease and I take the easy road. Or, well, that's who I was. Things are different now and we both know it.

"So…we gonna talk about what happened to your face?" I ask boldly. If I didn't, we'd probably end up avoiding talking about it all day.

"Would you be mad if I said no? At least…not now…Austin, I—I'm not ready," she says, pushing food around on her plate. "I need to understand everything before I can even begin to make you understand everything. I just…everything is so messed up." She looks up at me suddenly and it's like I forgot how to breathe. "Did that make any sense at all?"

"Surprisingly, yes."

Honestly, no.

"So you wanna tell me what you're doing here? Why you showed up on my doorstep?"

"No. Well, that's apart of it." She's gritting her teeth and visibly struggling and I want to take it all away for her, but I don't fucking know how. "Everything was…spinning out of control and I thought about the last time I remember feeling safe and…secure and that was with you, Austin. I just wanted to feel that way again." Finally looking me in the eyes, she mutters, "I really missed you."

And that's what does me in. Fuck. Kelly is going to be pissed.

"So do you need a place to stay?" I find myself asking. My leg starts fidgeting beneath the table, recalling the way Emily was ready to bail when we came face-to-face at the door. I can't have her show up here, do all this, just to disappear for another couple years again. No way am I letting her without a fight this time.

"I don't want to impose. I can't," Emily says, looking so ashamed of herself. It breaks my heart. "You're been so good to me. Ha, ever since that time at the train station in Paris and I…I don't have anything that you could possibly want."

_I want you_.

"I want to know you're going to be okay," I tell her. My fingertips itch to reach out and touch her, but I resist to the best of my ability. "Listen, I've still got my old place out in Boulder, the one by the lake. It's quiet and secluded. You could stay there with Jillie while you straighten everything out."

"Austin, I couldn't…"

"You can and you will," I say with a such finality. "Not like I have a lot of use for it while I'm here. I haven't been up there in months. It's all yours for as long as you need it."

"You've already helped me so much before…"

"Yeah, but before I used to do it because it was fun to watch you squirm or because I got something in return. Then, with you, always with you, I started helping just because. So let do it. Let me help you." I swear I'm not begging even though that is exactly what it sounds like. "I missed you too, Em."

Her face doesn't light up in the way I was hoping, but her lips curl into a gracious smile and she's the one who reaches out and takes my hand. "You're amazing. And I promise I'll answer all of your questions…soon."

I nod. "Take your time."

Something in my gut tells me I'm playing this wrong. I should demand to know what she's been up to and why she's really here, with her kid, and not her husband or boyfriend or whatever the fuck the workaholic music man is to her because hell if I know. Kelly isn't going to be happy when I call her and report that I have shit to report and I opened my life (and if history means shit it won't be too long till she's in my heart too) to Emily Kmetko.

But then she hugs me and it's different from the way Faith hugs. Faith is playful but rough and borderline violent. She hugs like she has nothing to hide and essentially, she doesn't. Emily hugs like she's afraid to be so close to someone, both emotionally and physically, and it just reminds me that Kelly had a point, that we don't know each other as well as I want to believe.

We pull away when my phone buzzes. It's a text from Nicky.

_We need to talk_.

While Emily goes back to feeding Jillie, I texts back. _Shit. R u breaking up with me, Nicky? No baby. I promise to change. I will. _

He doesn't text back long enough for me to devour another strip of bacon.

When he finally does, it's with a, _don't be an ass, Tucker. Tomorrow. Lunch. The usual. _

Nicky Russo thinks he's so big and bad now. On one hand, I think he deserves it. Finally. The success. Something he's worked so long and hard for. Even when he couldn't make the reality of the Olympic match the dream he had in mind, Nicky didn't fall out of life. He had the strength to stick with it and now he helps others' dreams come true. It's noble. On the other hand, the 'best coach in the world' stick up his ass is fucking annoying sometimes.

_K boo_. See u.

After that, Nicky doesn't text back and I just sit and watch Emily feed her daughter. She looks like such a mom. Kinda in the way Kelly is with Parker, but different too. Something all Emily. I can't explain it well. I can't explain it at all, but there's something beautiful about it. I can't help myself and just stare the entire time.

Once Jillie can't eat another bite, I jingle my keys and ask, "So are we ready to head to Boulder?"

Placing the fork down onto the empty plate and pushing it away from her, Emily hesitates. A moment later, she's looking up at me and softly, she says, "It's been a long time since I've been home."

"So when you say or hear 'home' you think Boulder?" I ask.

"Yes," Emily quietly responds. "What about you?"

I press my finger to the screen and illuminate the screen, show her that picture of the four most important people in my life right now, and reply, "Where ever these people are."

"That's no way to live, Tucker," she says. There's an edge to her voice, a tad bit bitter like when she'd mentioned Damon, but also overwhelmed with concern. "What happens when they leave? What happens to your home then?"

"I don't think you get how we are. How we work. That wouldn't happen. We wouldn't let it."

We aren't like Emily and Lauren and Kaylie and Payson. We aren't competing. We aren't friends like that, friends who so easily let things like gymnastics and boys get in the way. From the way they treated each other, all four of their view of friendship had been skewed early on. If I could only tell her what it truly feels like to be loved and belong, but I don't know how.

"Everything falls apart eventually, Austin. Most likely when you think they're just finally coming together," She says. To conceal her sudden sadness, Emily smiles warmly at her daughter, murmuring something about getting her cleaned up before taking Jillie from the highchair and retreating to the bathroom.

As I watch them go, it reminds me of something Kelly once told me, right after Emily left and right before I officially moved to Denver. She's always been the one to tell it to me straight. Didn't matter what it was, how much it would crush me, if I wanted to hear it or not. Kelly didn't sugarcoat shit. It's something to admire, but no less annoying.

Kelly told me that Emily Kmetko was like a disease. She said Emily Kmetko seemed harmless like a little lump or blemish seems harmless, but ends up being cancerous. She infected me and drained me and consumed me, brought me to dark placed and then one day, as if by a miracle, completely disappeared. Life went on after Emily left and, sure, in a way, I became lighter, started to enjoy life again and realized there were people in the world other than the Rock Girls, a world outside of Boulder. That feeling of missing something never completely disappeared, but I'm assuming cancer survivors can say the same thing.

Kelly said I was lucky Emily cut me out of her life, that I should be happy. I remember being pissed at Kelly for a long time after that conversation. I hated how she belittled what Emily and I had though I didn't blame her because she didn't see it or feel it. No one really did. Not even the other Rock Girls. Well, actually, I'm pretty sure Lauren knew. After all, the bitch tried to use it to her advantage. And I always got the feeling Payson did too even if she never said anything. So that basically leaves Kaylie. Yeah, Kaylie was clueless. At least, I think.

I'm convinced if Kelly saw us, what an underdog dream team Emily and I made, she would understand. Ultimately, though, I got over it because no matter how much we bitch at each other, FKN is always there for me. FKN-A. They're always there when I need them, even when I don't want to admit I need them. They saved me once and even if I'm about to fuck up again, letting Emily in so easily, I know I've got FKN, as cheesy as it sounds, my fucking light in this fucked up world.

Now though, Kelly's little analogy, I can _feel_ it. There has always been such darkness in Emily Kmetko, maybe after having to overcome so much at a young age or maybe it's just because she was always standing next to Princess Kaylie Cruz and Payson Keeler the Great. Now there's no one to compare her to, but I still feel that foreboding feeling and it's as if it's only gotten stronger in the time we spent apart.

"Who are you, Emily?" I whisper to the empty room and all I get in return is silence.

* * *

A/N: I wish I could have made my comeback with something more exciting, but trust me, from here on out, as Austin starts to unravel Emily's past, things get bumping. Now that LLD is almost officially over, I will be updating this a lot more. Just want to say thanks to everyone who is still reading even though this story hasn't seen much love from me in a while. Don't worry. That will change soon enough.

Did anyone see the preview for Kaylie's vampire dream and Austin looking all dark and tall, with his fangs and Emily at his side all, 'you can trust him'? FORSHADOWING! No, I have no idea. If Austin/Emily don't have scenes together I will burst! Care to comment?

xoxo


	4. Wasted Wednesday!

A/N: I'm officially calling them AusEm! I'm so glad y'all like all my AusEm stories and thank you for continuing to review and show your support! I don't trust ABC Family at all so I'm trying not to get my hopes up, but in the canon of my mind, those two are golden.

* * *

**-XX-**

**Remember October**

**Chapter Four**

It's a little crushing on the ego and a little ironic that a former multi-Olympic gold winner gets winded on a little hike. Then there's Emily, pushing Jillie in a stroller, blazing ahead of me. She smiles and runs her fingers along the tree trunks, looking like it's been a long time since she's been around nature, even if it is pretty damn cold and everything around us is, well, dead.

It makes me wonder where she's been. Obviously far from nature. Probably a city, but what city? Maybe she's been in Denver, right under my nose, this entire time. Maybe we walk the same streets every day and buy our milk from the same grocery store—No. I can't jump to conclusions like that. Nothing is certain unless she says it is. I can't start making up stories in my head. Who really knows where she's been?

"Having trouble keeping up there, Tucker?" Emily asks with a glance from over her shoulder. There's such playfulness to her soft voice, a piece of how we used to be together, how easy it all used to be. It makes me grin my ol' winning grin and jog to catch up with her, so badly needing to be near her.

"Don't worry 'bout me," I say. "Still got it."

"Sure," Emily laughs. "Just promise me no more uneven bars and pummel horses."

"Promise not needed," I assure her. "Wouldn't even if I wanted to. I'm sure I could find other ways to impress you."

Fuck. Was that flirting? Damn it. I wish I could take it back, but I'm me and I don't do the embarrassed apology thing so I just plaster on a smirk. Emily just keeps walking down the dirt path, pretending like I didn't just totally make things awkward.

Truthfully, just the idea of training again is a little terrifying. It's not like I have a beer belly or anything, but the last time I was in a gym had been Denver Elite and it was only to meet up with Nicky and Kelly before we went out to lunch. I don't care to count the months or, well, years since I've been in the Rock. It sucks the way I left what was once my home and it isn't something I like to think about.

"Do you miss it?" Emily asks nonchalantly.

It's exactly what I don't want to talk about, but not answering would be rude. "Sometimes, maybe," I tell her and it's the truth. "And you?"

"Things could have gone better. For all of us," Emily says. I know what she's alluding to and fuck. I really don't want to talk about any of that right now. "But I have Jillie now and it's like I'm living a completely different life. I do miss it though…sometimes."

We end up by the water and Emily pulls Jillie out of her stroller, setting her down on her feet. Her light wavy hair is pulled up in a high ponytail at the back of her head. There are bright like school bus yellow rain boots on her feet and she waddles around, Emily holding her hand tight when she tries to run to the water.

"How old is she?" I ask.

"Just turned sixteen months," Emily expertly replies. "What about, um, Kelly's son?"

"Eighteen months," I answer. "He's a talker, not unlike Kelly. That kid can babble for hours. It's ridiculous."

"We can't all be that lucky," Emily says, pulling Jillie into her arms.

"Yeah, I noticed she's quiet. Takes after mom then?" I ask. "Not Nana Chloe?"

Emily twitches at the mention of her mother and I can't tell if I'm actually seeing clues or looking really hard for them. "She definitely takes after me," Emily finally replies, sounding a little relieved. She doesn't look at me, but repositions Jillie in her arms and smiles. "Daddy is pretty soft spoken too, isn't he?"

Daddy. Damon Young. Mr. Music.

I want to ask why she didn't just run to him, why she's here with me and not him, but I know I shouldn't. There's so much I want to say, but stop myself from actually doing it. Nowadays in Denver I'm always around such strong women that I don't need to remind myself to be sensitive. Kelly and Faith are tough, talk like dudes and probably even fight like dudes too. I can usually say whatever and they take it in strides, but seeing how fragile Emily is right now, I know to watch myself.

Before I say any more, my phone buzzes in my pocket and I already know who it is.

_Leaving DE now_._ You better be on your way._

Nicky has a ten-minute drive. By the time I leave Boulder, it'll probably take an hour at the most. Forty-five if I speed. Either way, Nicky isn't going to be too pleased.

_No worries, bro. Already left,_ I text back then put my phone on silent and shove it into my pocket. He's a lot of fun to piss off. It's a pastime, really.

"You know, if you have somewhere to be you should go," Emily says, walking towards me with Jillie in her arms. "There's a full fridge. Electricity. Heat. Running water. Even cable TV. We'll be fine here. You made sure of that."

"Yeah, I should probably head out," I murmur, even though I really don't want to leave. "I gotta work tonight at the bar, but I'll swing by tomorrow morning and if you need anything—"

"You're the first number I'll call," she says. "Thank you for everything, Austin." She turns to Jillie and takes her hand, reaching out towards me. "Can you say thank you to Austin? Thank you, Austin."

Jillie doesn't do anything, but stare, but it still makes me smile. At first I thought it was just Parker, but even Jillie makes me feel it. I've got a soft spot for kids. So sue me.

"Bye," I whisper, running my thumb over Jillie's little fist. Before I can move away, Emily grabs my shoulder and then we're hugging again with Jillie nestled between us. I wrap my long arms over the both of them and we stay like that for some time. Then when she finally lets go, we share a smile, a wave and then I'm starting up my motorcycle, speeding off for my little lunch date.

Man, at Nationals 2010, after I scooped gold, if you told me I would eventually end up being such good friends with Nicky Russo, silver medalist, I would have probably laughed right in your face. _Hard_.

It's a little sad that he's always taken himself so seriously because, frankly, I never did. Not even when we were competing against one another, or, at least, supposedly competing against each other. I never really saw the kid from Boulder (then Denver) as too big of a threat. Not a threat at all. I always found him a little sad and now look at us. I'm godfather to his son. It's funny how shit plays out sometimes.

"You're late."

"Worst two word sentence in the English language," I add, sliding into the seat across from Nicky. He already ordered a burger and I reach over to steal one of the fries. He lets me, but if it were Kelly she would've tried to cut off one of my fingers with the butter knife. I make a mental note to tell little Parker to go through Daddy (the easy parent) and then get him to convince Mommy to get his way. Grinning I ask, "That's how you found out lil' PJ was in that oven, right?"

"No. I think it was more along the lines of Kelly screaming, 'Nick, this is your fault, you horny bastard. I'm pregnant' or, well, something like that," Nicky says with a fond smile. He even imitates KP's high-pitch voice and it reminds me of why I'm friends with this dude. "Speaking of Kelly, she told me about your Emily Kmetko situation."

"Was she freaking out?"

"You know Kelly and how she can be," Nicky says. He smiles down at his burger as he says her name. It's official. Russo got some last night. "You're like her little bird she nursed back to health. And she has a point. To throw yourself back into the lion's den is a little counterproductive, don't you think?"

"Nicky, you know it makes you sound like a douche when you use 'counterproductive' in casual conversation," I tell him. Cheeky grin and everything. "An old friend stopped by and we talked. That's all it was."

"Is this 'old friend' lounging around your apartment as we speak?"

"Nope. Long gone," I tell him. At least that's the truth. "So I love these little one-on-one lunch dates, Nicky. It really does show you pulling your weight in this relationship—" Nicky rolls his eyes at that, "—but did you really put this whole thing together just to yank my chain b'cause Kelly ordered you to?"

"No. Actually, there's something else I wanted to talk to you about." Nicky looks nervous all of a sudden and digs through his pocket. He places a small, square velvet box onto the edge of the table and pushes it towards me.

He looks so uncomfortable and it makes me irrationally happy.

"Well," I fail to keep my amusement under control and chuckle, "Aren't you going to get down on one knee at least?"

A grown man really shouldn't turn that shade of red. Oh Nicky.

"It's not for you," he hisses.

"Then who's it for?" I ask. Leaning forward, I level my eyes with the little box and poke it like it's a foreign object from outer space. Before I can poke it enough to tip it over, Nicky snaps it away and opens it, revealing a fucking huge ass diamond ring. "Shit."

"I'm going to ask Kelly to marry me."

"Holy fucking shit," I murmur, slumping back into the seat. Maybe it's good the waitress hasn't had a chance to come by yet. How am I supposed to think about something like food and eating when Nickelly and marriage is already crowding up the entire table?

Nicky's dark brows knit together like a confused little boy. "So you don't think it's a good idea?"

"Who told you it would be?"

In perfect unison, we both say, "Faith."

Nicky slouches and rubs his hand over his face while I lean forward and narrow my eyes at him. "So, Nicky Boy, what are your intentions towards _my_ KP?"

I feel the emphasis on the "my" is both appropriate and necessary.

"Well, I mean, why not?" Nicky says. "Like you and Faith, and you both equally suck at subtlety by the way, keep suggesting, we might as well just do it. We spend so much time together anyways and it'd be good for Parker. Plus, you know, we could both use the financial benefits and tax breaks. Like it or not, society is made to cater to married couples."

Shaking my head, I push the top of the little velvet box until it snaps shut. "Fuck no am I supporting this. Dude, you're getting married for all the wrong reasons."

"But everyone keeps saying—"

"Fuck everyone, Nicky," I tell him. "You find someone who's compatible to you, who makes you a better man, _who you love_. Then you marry her."

"And you don't think Kelly is any of those things to me?"

"No, I think you and KP are three for three, but man, you can't even say it out loud to me, let alone to her. You aren't ready and Kelly can sense shit like that. She's like a fucked up people whisperer," I explain. "I know you and Kelly skip around a lot, going straight to the sex then straight to having a kid and juggling it all, bypassing the dating and the wooing, but going straight into marriage might be a risky one, Russo. Slow it down. Woo her."

"Woo her?"

"Yeah," I say. Honestly, I am the last person who should be giving out dating advice, but someone needs to. "Buy her flowers. Take her to dinner. Tell her how hot she looks. Tell her how you feel. Necessary steps, Nicky. The hell were you thinking? Proposing out of the blue?"

"I don't know what I was thinking," he says. Kid looks pale, sickly even. I wonder if he's going to finish his burger. "I just…I was going through some of my old things and I found this. It was the engagement ring my dad gave to my mom and my mom gave to me right before she died. Then I started thinking and I…I can't picture giving it to anyone other than Kelly."

Ugh. Fucking Nicky and his fucking skipping around. If he started out with that this would be an entirely different conversation.

"You sure? Not even Kaylie Cruz?"

Nicky scoffs. "What was one of our terms when we started hanging out?"

"That neither of us date Kaylie Cruz ever again," I say, dragging on each word to show how bored I am with the subject. As great of a thing as I had with Kaylie, how much I grew as a person when I was with her, there is no way in hell I would go back to that. I'm too different and though we haven't talked in years, I'm sure she's different too.

Last I heard, E! gave Kaylie and Lauren their own reality TV show, Off the Beam. It followed the lives of the two former elite gymnasts (who were roomies at the start—yikes) living in high society Beverly Hills, where stupid drama apparently follows them around. Girl fights. Boy issues. Charity events. Fashion shows. Jealousy. Drama. Drama. Drama. Real juicy (mind-numbing) shit.

Kelly and Faith would sit around every Tuesday night to watch it. They'd make fun of it, laughing hysterically and I couldn't help, but join in. That shit is just plain ridiculous, but it gets viewers and that's the whole point I guess. We got over it after the second season where Kaylie dated a Food Network Chef and Lauren had a feud with some chick that was apparently on the Hills. From time to times I still see commercials. Apparently they're on season 5 of that shit. What has this world become?

"Well, our pact to not date Kaylie Cruz seems to have served us well so far. I mean, you're a mess yet I still asked you to possibly raise my first born son if anything ever happened to me and Kel," Nicky goes on. "We work. I say we keep things that way."

"Ditto," I agree, "And I still think you should at least go on a real date or seven real dates and then move in together before you literally get down on one knee. And you better get down on one knee. Apparently, that was the first mistake I made when I proposed to Payson and failed miserably. Then again, I didn't even have a ring so you're already better off than me…"

I realize how I slipped when I see the way Nicky is looking at me. Fuck. There are a shit ton of things I don't talk about and proposing to Payson Keeler is at the top of it. It's even higher up than some of the shit Emily was stirring this morning. Not the greatest day so far.

We both go quiet and I slide the salt shaker from one hand to the next to try to keep myself occupied.

Nicky clears his throat. "If I didn't already miss a meeting this morning—" B'cause he was so still in bed with Kel. Called it, "—And have to make up that meeting after this, I'd call for a round of drinks," Nicky says with a reassuring smile. "Dedicated to the Rock Girls and the poor bastards who fell and almost fell for them."

I smile. "I'd drink to that. Too bad."

It's the weirdest thing to get a text message from someone about some else while you're currently sitting in a diner with that someone else.

_I had to cover 4 u w/ Parker last night, u ass. As an apology, I demand u close up the bar 4 tonight. Nickelly is dwn 4 WASTED WEDNESDAY! What u think, Aus?_

Faith still texts like an easily excited twelve-year-old girl, but it makes me smile every time. I text back: _for you, boo. Shutting it down_. In reply, I just get a text message of infinite x's and o's. That makes me smile too.

Chuckling, I tell Nicky, "Apparently we'll be getting those drinks soon enough. Faith just declared it Wasted Wednesday. So where's Parker going to be while mommy and daddy and the godparents get their drink on?"

"My dad volunteered to take him off our hands for the night, which is funny seeing as he was never around when I was Parker's age."

"God bless the retired."

"I was going to take Kelly out to dinner and pop the question, but apparently, Faith got to her first and you shut down all this," Nicky says, motioning to the ring box.

"Believe me, bro, you'll be thanking me when you and KP are for real doing this and there won't be any cold feet or runaway bride reenactments," I tell him. He looks deep in thought so I take the opportunity to sneakily grab half of his burger and devour it. "Trust me, Nicky."

"Yeah, as insane as it probably is, Tuck, I trust you."

Sliding free from the booth, I round the table and sit next to Nicky. Despite his protest, I round my arm around his neck in a headlock hug thing. I even try to wrap my leg around his knee and Nicky presses his palm to my face, trying to pry me off. Everyone around is giving us weird looks, but it isn't like I give a shit. I kiss the top of his head before finally letting go. After eating the rest of Nicky's burger and all the fries, we go our separate ways until tonight.

Picking bits of hamburger bun and meat out of my teeth, I text Emily and she tells me to quit worrying. Instinct tells me to head back to Boulder, to continue picking at her for answers, but then I decide against it, let her and Jillie settle in. So I head back to the apartment to get in a shower and change into some new clothes. I end up falling asleep and the next time I wake up it's because there's banging on the front door of my apartment.

I drag myself out of bed and go straight to the door, swinging it open. "Fuck is your problem?"

"Funny thing, Aus." It's Joey and I'm guessing whatever he has to say isn't so funny. "I show up to work, on time for a change, and then Giancana, who apparently owns the bar now and not to mention the universe, says we're closed for the night. Why didn't I get the memo? I never get the memo!"

"I'm sorry. I'll remember to put you on the employee mailing list. Next time, bud," I say sarcastically, rubbing the sleep from my eyes.

"A text would have done it," he says. "I don't have time I can just throw away."

"Well, I'm sorry, Joey, but I had shit to deal with this morning, alright?"

"Does it have to do with your breakfast buddy?" Joey asks. I can't believe he even remembers that. He looks amused and so I narrow my eyes and grab him by the shirt to keep him still. It wipes that look clear off his face.

"Look, no one, least of all Faith, can know about that," I tell him in a voice that's calm yet her. Least I hope it is. "She's just going to tell Kelly who will then grill my ass about it and I really don't want to have to deal with that right now. Got it?"

"Yeah, sure," Joey says. "I always got your back, T."

"You better," I say. He let go of him and then run my hands over his shoulders to straighten out the creases I caused. I then shut and lock the apartment door behind me, starting down the stairs with Joey. "So since you have the night off you hitting the clubs?"

"Maybe," Joey says. "Since Faith made it clear that I'm not welcomed inside."

Joey's bitter, but there isn't anything I can do. Nicky/Kelly/Faith/Austin bonding time is sacred time. It's special and it's between us and Joey would have just felt awkward and left out anyways. We got this rule that when we hang no one else is allowed. It's just _us_. Even if Faith or me ever got married (haha), the spouse wouldn't even be invited. Duh Joey isn't going to be granted access. So we say out goodbyes at the door and I head inside.

"—And I was like, eww, no way is this going down. Keep your slutty little hands off of my son, you little whore," Kelly says venomously, swinging out her hand as she tells the story. Seems like my favorite HBIC has started the party early. Gin and tonic with a lime wedge.

"Parks, she was a two-year-old child," Nicky reminds her. He's got a beer himself. His jacket is off and the top buttons of his dress shirt are undone, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Clear signs that it's going to be a fun night.

"Aww, Kel, pick on someone your own size," I tease, walking over to them. I give Nicky a pat on the back as I pass him and kiss Kelly's cheek in hello. Nicky tilts his beer bottle to me and Kelly just stares. Fuck. She's still suspicious. Someone get her silly drunk and quick.

"You guys don't understand. That little girl's mom puts her in pageants. She was a _pageant girl_," Kelly argues. "There's no way a son of mine is going to end up with some free-loading trophy wife, who's going to think that she doesn't need to get a job and can just buy shoes and crap with the money Parker's hard work and gold metals earned. Hell no."

"So you see all of this by looking at a two-year-old?" I asks. "Phenomenal, KP."

I get behind the bar to where Faith is, mixing some sort of concoction that probably tastes like ass, going off of looks alone. Glaring, Kelly raises her glass like she's going to throw it at me, but then Nicky catches her wrist and brings it back down till the bottom of her glass thuds against the bar counter.

"Aww, Kelly, you need to lighten up," Faith pipes in. "I did pageants when I was a toddler. Ha, I was a toddler in a tiara…minus the spray tan. I stomped my feet and pushed for the spray tan, but dad and Cynthia, my handler, wasn't into the, well, orange look."

"You did pageants? Ha! My point exactly," Kelly says with a sly smile. "Slutty hands."

Faith pouts and I can't help, but laugh. God, I love my girls.

Not even a second later, Faith catches me laughing and socks me in the arm. Knuckle to bicep full force. Ouch.

"Well, shit. What's up with that?" I question. "Kelly is the one who called you Slutty Hands, not me. Jesus. Not the warmest welcome I've ever gotten from you."

"That is for ditching me with Parker when it was clearly your day. I even reminded you, you big jerk," Faith says, hitting me again. The second time she doesn't hit me that hard even though she surely could and proved it with the first punch so at least I know she isn't _that_ angry at me.

"Wow, I didn't know being a good godmother was such a burden," Nicky says dryly.

"No, that's not my point. I love the kid. Yesterday we made a YouTube video of me feeding him dog food. Five thousand hits last time I checked," Faith says. She goes too big with her lies. She's incapable of telling little white ones. They always need to be so extravagantly dressed up. Oh Pretty. "Parker and me always have a good time. I just hate that I had to cancel a date on a night that wasn't my night."

"And I'm sorry. You know I'm sorry, Faye." I say it like a sap because damn this girl turned me into a sap. Faith glares, but I just round my arm around her and bend my head so our cheeks are touching. She doesn't even try to push me away. Loves the attention too much. "I'm sure the frat boy didn't mind you rescheduling."

"He's not a frat boy. He's a musician," Faith says. Without really thinking about it, I tense up and Faith frowns, feeling it, feeling me. Looking up at me, apologetic, she adds, "And…a, uh, he's a pizza delivery guy too."

Kelly snorts. "Well, he sure sounds like a keeper."

"Or the leading man in a porno," I try to joke.

"Shut up," Faith snaps. Directed at me again. Kelly just gets off easy, sipping her drink. "He's cute. I doubt this relationship is going to last more than my standard two weeks, but he makes me smile."

"Because that's what you should really be looking for in a future husband," Nicky adds teasingly. Faith wrinkles her nose at the simple idea of marriage. I don't think you could find someone more oppose to the institution than Faith.

"Nah, you look for shit like financial security," I say, giving Nicky a knowing smirk. He quickly looks away and it makes me laugh. "What happened to the dentist? Last time I checked that's who you were canceling Taco Thursday to go eat real food with."

"She suggested they have a laughing gas party, he explained that he could get fired for it and she dumped him," Kelly explains. "One of Faith's _many_ romance novel-esque relationships."

"What happened to the graduate student?" Nicky asks. "He seemed descent."

"Caught him sleeping with undergrads. Ugh, freshmen no less," Faith explains and Nicky nods as if just remembering it. Ugh, I hated that douche. Thank God that one ended before the standard two-week relationship limit.

"What about that guy with the weird mustache?" Kelly asks.

"She found out he was married, remember? We went out for ice cream and we saw him there with his wife and kids. Faith dumped a milkshake on him, we bought an ice cream cake and ate the whole thing in one night," I answer. It makes me laugh because that night was kinda shitty, but kinda awesome at the same time and damn Faith has bad luck with dating, but she's got awesome stories and instead of beating herself up over, she just goes out and keeps hunting.

"What about the 24 Hour Fitness guy?" Nicky asks.

"He wore tighter jeans than me. Over before it even started," Faith explains. "Okay. Enough about my failure in love. What's everyone else been up to?"

My eyes move over to Kelly who's still eyeing me like she has an interrogation on the tip of her tongue. Fuck me. Might as well get it over now. "KP looks like she has something to say. The floor is yours."

Not missing a beat, Kelly asks, "Is she gone?"

"Out of Denver," I tell her just as quickly.

"You're sure?"

"Believe me, Kel. I saw her drive off."

Kelly nods and finally starts to relax. "I'm impressed. You made an adult decision for once."

"All thanks to your pep talk, life coach. Cheers," I tell her. I clink my glass against hers just for dramatic affect and toss back the scotch. God, I hate not telling my friends the truth. It kills me, but telling them the truth will only ruin the night and that is the last thing I want.

"Wait, so you ditched Parker for a girl?" Faith asks. "Some goddaddy you are."

"Let's just drink, huh?" I propose, pouring myself another glass. "I'd propose we play 'I never' just for nostalgia's sake, but fuck, I don't know if there's anything left that we haven't done."

"Signs of a happy and full life," Faith sings. "I'll drink to that."

We each take a shot and it's a gateway to a hazy night with too much alcohol, too many memories and a lot of laughs. We talk about old times mostly. We've had a lot of good times, the four of us, especially when they made me their little project and taught me how to have fun again. This was me Post-Boulder and Nickelly Pre-Baby and Faith, well, Faith hardly ever changes. We'd go to parties and Nuggets games, ski trips and bar hopping.

We spend some time laughing about that one failed camping trip where we gotten lost in the middle of nowhere, it resembling the set of _The Hills Have Eyes_, Nicky trying to figure out the GPS, Kelly complaining nonstop, Faith freaking out and me making it worse by convincing her inbred mutants were coming from her. Man, I remember forcing her watch that movie. She cockblocked me for a month after for making her watch it. Longest dry spell ever, but it was worth it.

I can't tell you why we drank so much back then. Probably because we could. More so them. Being self-restrained stick-in-the-mud gymnasts for so long, when they finally had the power to do whatever, they went all out. Faith was never a big drinker. Neither were Nicky or Kelly, now that I think about it. Ha. Apparently, when they were going out of their way to fix me and make me better, I was the bad influence on them.

For someone who doesn't like to drink regularly, Faith can hold her liquor. Thank God too. I would've been pissed if she passed out and left me to sit here and watch Nicky and Kelly, those damn drunk, sloppy rabbits make out like they're the only two people in the room. That booth in the back corner of the bar is _their booth_ and that's where they are, giggling, groping, grinding and groaning.

"Why aren't we as drunk as them?" Faith asks, sitting with me at the bar.

I take a swig of my beer and reply, "B'cause we work in a bar. They're 'professionals' with 'real careers', whatever the hell that is, and they're also 'parents' and all them other neat little labels that put them in the adult category of human. Plus, KP's tiny and Nicky's weak and you and me still got it."

"October Fest '15," Faith hums with a bright, proud smile. The memory is then ruined by the sounds coming from the back. "Can you send them home already? They make me feel lonely."

"Sure. Give me a sec. The room just started spinning a bit."

Suddenly, Faith says, "You lied to Kelly or, well, didn't tell the entire truth."

I nod. I'm not above admitting something when caught. "You could tell?"

"We all could," Faith says truthfully. "Nicky's forehead did that crinkly thing and Kelly almost punched you in the face, but she didn't and he didn't say anything so I'm assuming they wanna let you try to handle it. Plus, swooping in to save the day is kinda their specialty when it comes to you and me."

"No swooping necessary," I tell her. "Everything is under control."

"Hope so," Faith says. "Liar doesn't look pretty on your forehead, Aus."

I smile a little. "Worried don't look pretty on yours either, pretty."

She rolls her eyes. "Shut up. I'm pretty all the time."

Laughing, I nod in agreement. "Fuck yeah you are. Now let's see how many shots it takes to make those pretty blue eyes bloodshot."

Faith smiles. "You pour."

It takes four shots of tequila for her eyes to turn red and a double after that for her words to start slurring. It's funny when she gets to that stage of sloppy drunk because it's Faith so she insists on talking, her words all running into one another till she sounds like an old person who forgot to put their dentures in. And she looks so happy. So damn happy.

I manage to call a cab for Mr. and Mrs. Lightweight and ignore the "I love you" and the "I love you too" that pass between them as me and Monte (our favorite cabbie) drag those two out front. It hurts to hear because it means enough to be real, but I know even if they remember it in the morning they sure as hell won't talk about it. Shit is blurry, but I feel nice so I slap Monte double the standard rate, salute him and head to bed.

Faith is already curled up in my bed when I get there and I'm so fucking lazy that I don't even want to change out of my jeans. I manage to kick off my shoes before collapsing onto the empty side of my cold bed, eyes too heavy to even try to keep open.

"Emily text'd you g'night," Faith sleepily says.

"Huh."

"N' I text'd 'er back. Said to keep away from _my man_," she giggles. Faith sleeps on her side and hogs the blankets, but I couldn't care less. She's here, which means she isn't out there, up to no good. She's safe with me and that's all that really matters. "Then I told her g'night too…I think."

Mostly likely it's a mess of nonsense letters and at least a few numbers that mindfucked the spell check. Oh well. Emily will understand.

"Don't let 'er hurt you, Aus," Faith mutters, seconds from drifting off. "Don't let 'er hurt us."

Something about Faith saying that sobers me up enough to give it some thought. In a way, I already have. Lying or at least, trying to keep it from Nicky, Kelly and Faith isn't something I do a lot. Actually, I don't think I've done it ever and I know it isn't something I should do. Plus, I'm practically transparent to those three. What can I say? That's family for yah.

It's just that Emily Kmetko has this hold on me and it hasn't hit me that she could potentially destroy everything I've built up since leaving Boulder. Kelly and Nicky and Faith have put up with my bullshit before and I don't want to make them have to again. I want to tell them everything, but before that can happen I need to figure out what everything is.

"Fuck me," I murmur. Not a command or a suggestion and I doubt Faith would go with it even if it were. It's more of an exclamation. An expression. Fuck it. I dunno. Just slipped out. "Faye, Kel is right. Emily is in bad shape and I'm guessing she went through some shit and I don't really know her anymore."

"Well, find out," Faith insists, pulling a pillow over her eyes. "Get diggin' boy."

"I don't know where to start."

"I'll help," Faith says, "But first some chili cheese fries. Yum."

I give a lazy chuckle, knowing the girl is gone. I force my eyes open long enough to see her curled up on the other side of the bed, burrowed beneath the pillows and blankets. I manage to get my watch off, toss it onto the floor, move a pillow away from Faith's face so she doesn't suffocate and then tucker her in like I would Parker if he was over. Then I return to my side of the bed, putting all thought to rest for the remainder of the night.

Come morning Ima beast the expected hangover then the digging begins.

* * *

A/N2: I know it felt like total filler and you probably can't tell at this point, but important shit was revealed in this chapter. It'll all make sense in due time. Just bear with me. Come next chapter shit gets twisted and that's a promise.

xoxo


	5. A Karaoke King Named Razor

AN: Ugh, this story cries itself to sleep, forever in the epic shadow of LDD, but I still love it. Btw, just so you know, if this were a real book I'd never write it like this, but it's just fanfiction so I'm mixing POVs. It's Austin's POV overall, but the flashbacks will be third person.

* * *

**-XX-**

**Remember October**

**Chapter Five**

It isn't so much a blinding pain, but a hazy laziness in the morning.

No open sores, cuts or bruises. That's always good after a night of drinking with the gang. I head straight for the bathroom and run the water, dropping last night's clothes to the bathroom floor and climbing into the shower. When the water first hits my tense muscles, it hurts like hell, but then I ease into it and can't bring myself to do more than stand there for a bit. If only the world could stand just as still when I do.

"Didn't I leave a flat iron here?" Faith's voice drifts in from the other side of the shower certain. I hear her rummaging, knocking things over as she goes through the cupboard and under the skin. It goes without question that she doesn't intend to right any of it.

"Boundaries, darling," I murmur. Post-drinking morning-after gravely voice. Check.

"Like I haven't seen it before, hubby. Like you haven't _flaunted it_ in public places before," Faith giggles. The curtain rattles and the sound is followed by the opening and closing of more cabinet doors. It's astounding how she's a groggy bitch when you try to wake her up before ten on a daily basis, but still cheery even with a hangover as long as it's after ten.

"So did you have fun?" I ask, managing to move enough to lather my hair with shampoo.

"I always have fun when I'm with you," Faith says sweetly. "Being reminded of how hyper sexual Nicky and Kelly are? _That_ I could have done without."

I can't help, but laugh. Means shit isn't _that_ foggy for both of us. I do remember the way Nicky and Kelly would inch closer and closer with every drink. How the entire night her hand was on his shoulder, fingers toying with the hair at the nape of his neck and how his hand kept moving higher up her leg. The way he bit back a smile every time she laughed and trust me, she laughed _a lot_. Most notably, how they slowly, but surely pushed Faith and me out of the picture until they were whisked away to a universe where only the two of them (and occasionally Parker, I'd assume) exist.

"They're in love, y'know," I mutter. There's a pause and I'm ready to peek around the curtain to see if she's even still in the bathroom. I need to tell someone. "It annoys the fuck out of me that they won't do anything about it. If I had that easy of a setup with a cool girl I love who obviously loves me back then I wouldn't still be playing the denial game. I'd have that locked down."

"That's what I've been saying, oh, since we were sixteen," comes Faith's reply. I hear a tapping and then the sound of bristles against teen and crinkle my face. Is she using my toothbrush?

"I told him to woo her," I confess. Keeping things from Faith requires conscious effort. Otherwise I just blurt out random shit like that. "He told me he wants to marry her and I told him to maybe do the dating thing or the moving in together thing first. Lord knows the only thing besides Kaylie Cruz that could ruin what we've got going on here is a divorce."

Faith spits. Like, literally spits. Then runs the water and there's more tapping.

"Silly, you know Kelly would so leave him at the altar before they get as far as divorce," Faith says playfully. "In all seriousness though, it's sound advice. Even more seriously, I'd kill for as sweet a deal as they have going on with a high quality boy with low expectations."

I chuckle. "Amen, sister."

"Jesus Christ, save some water for the whales, you greedy bastard," Faith says, rattling the shower curtain again. "I'll be in the living room watching cartoons. Do you know if the Thai place down on Federal delivers this early?"

"Yup. They open at eleven," I reply. I wouldn't doubt that the Thai place has the directions to my apartment memorized with how often I order out.

"So the usual?" Faith asks.

"Cash in the cookie jar like always."

Faith closes the door behind her and I finish my shower, already thinking of noodles fried in chili paste. Just as my stomach starts growling, I wrap a towel around my waste and shut off the water. As expected, Faith left shit everywhere so I need to step over bottles of hair gel and unplug the flat iron (that she left on) before I go change into a fresh shirt and jeans. I find my cell on my bedroom floor with Faith's shoes and my watch.

No new messages from Emily. I don't know if I should be relieved or worried.

After plugging the charger into the wall and then into my phone, I text Emily good morning and ask what she's up to. When a good thirty seconds pass and no reply, I leave it on my dresser and go out to the living room where Faith is indeed watching cartoons. I crash onto the couch with a groan and rest my head on her thigh, eyes shifting from the screen to her entranced stare.

"Popeye," I observe. "The sailor man."

"He's no Aladdin, but he's super sexy for a cartoon character," Faith says, completely serious too. "I know. I know. It's creepy, but it's true. The dude has no teeth, he's mid-forties at least and he can barely speak English. Creepy, but I'm strangely diggin' it."

"Really? I was thinking more along the lines that it's creepy that you check out cartoon characters," I point out. This girl is amusement personified with a hot pair o' legs. "Have you ever considered the possibility that maybe it isn't so much the guys you date being weirdoes, but you…?"

"You are so asking to be smothered with this here pillow," Faith says in her best Popeye impersonation that isn't anything to brag about. Just as she grabs the pillow, there's a knock on the door and I grab the rolled up cash tucked beneath Faith's bra strap before getting up with a groan. Thai takeout, come to Austin.

It's a total fucking disappointment when I open the door and it's just Joey and his up-to-no-good grin. I knew it was way too fast for it to already be here, but I got my hopes up anyways.

I'm about to express this disappointment and my suspicion brought about by the way Joey keeps popping up at my doorstep, but then I notice the _thing_ he has under his arm and am successfully distracted. It's living, breathing, blinking, but I still can't tell what it is.

So I ask, "What in God's holy name is that?"

"What?" Joey looks genuinely confused like he doesn't notice the nearly hairless gray beast with a liver spot-like pattern, stuck beneath his arm with its long, pink tongue hanging out of its mouth and random sprouts of white hair. When he catches me staring at _the thing_ Joey goes on, "Oh. This is Eduardo. He belongs to a, uh, a client of mine."

"You mean fuck buddy?" I ask slyly. "You know, getting paid to walk their dogs and have sex with them. It's practically prostitution. I should report you."

"Did I hear 'dog'?" Faith squeals with excitement and rushes to the door. "C'mere doggie! I love me some—Jesus! What the hell is that? Eww! I've seen cuter sewer rats rummaging through the trashcans in the subways. Joey, that thing is almost as hideous as you."

"You're so fucking shallow," Joey snarls. "I'll have you know Eduardo is a purebred, um, Chinese Water…Crested…dog. He's won awards and stuff."

"Umm, yeah, in the category of ugly," Faith retorts. "And FYI purebred equals inbreeding."

"Dude, you're such a—"

"And what's Eduardo doing here exactly?" I interrupt. Shit. And they say I act like a child? These two beast even me.

"I need a favor," Joey says. Always with the favors. I really shouldn't be surprised. "I need to stash him somewhere for a while. Can I just tie him up in the corner of your kitchen or something? Just for a couple hours?"

It's a weird request even for Joey, but it sounds harmless enough. After hesitating for maybe a second or two, I nod my head and motion for him to head inside. Faith keeps casting Eduardo looks like its going to morph into a Tasmanian devil and attack or something, but the dog just sits still in Joey's lap and doesn't make a sound.

Another episode of Popeye, the one where he takes Sweat Pea to the zoo—I make a mental note to suggest the zoo to Emily—and finally there's another knock on the door. The Thai food delivery guy shows up and Joey wonders aloud whether we should be concerned that he's Mexican and Faith makes some sarcastic comment about him being unfortunate looking and racist and what a catch he is.

Once I have the take out containers all scattered across the coffee table and Eduardo is banished to the kitchen, there's no more talking because we're all too busy stuffing our faces. We watch more cartoons in this nice, comfortable silence and when I'm honestly stuffed I go to retrieve my phone.

I find a good afternoon text from Emily and I text her that I'm heading to the cabin.

"Alright. I'm out of here," I announce. Walking back into the living room, Faith now has it turned to an episode of _Maury_ where they're (as always) trying to find out who's the Baby Daddy. "Faith, how long do you plan to spend here?"

"All day," she replies loftily, waving her chopsticks at me. That showoff. "If I go home I'm just going to lounge around there and have to come back here for my shift tonight. I'm already comfortable. Might as well stay. I thought I could spend the day with my fav. Hotness, but apparently you have other plans in mind."

"Sorry to disappoint, Pretty, you gotta share me with the rest of the world too," I say, ignoring that curious twinkle in her eye. "Just make sure the dog-thing doesn't destroy my apartment, 'iight?"

"Sure thing, Handsome," Faith agrees. "Just kiss me goodbye."

I make this big fussy sound like it's such a trouble as I lean down and sweetly kiss the side of her head, smoothing my hand down the back of her head. I'm just glad she isn't asking any questions about where I'm going—Boulder—and who I'm going to see—Emily and Jillie. She could easily get it out of me, but she doesn't even try because she trusts me. Fuck man. How easy would everything be if I were in love with Faith? If only life were that simple.

"You'll be back by tonight, right?" Faith asks, catching the edge of my shirt before I could walk away. "I really want you to meet the guy I've been seeing."

"Yeah. Sure." I don't know why she always wants and even cares about my opinion of these guys, but apparently it's important to her and she's important to me so I go with it.

After rubbing Joey's head and thoroughly annoying him, I grab my wallet, my keys and I head to Boulder on Lolita. She still looks like a beauty and runs like a champion. I'm out by the lake in no time. The house is quiet when I first enter and I see Jillie sound asleep on the couch. God, she's beautiful. She's like Emily in that way, but so different too.

Emily is out on the back patio, sitting in a folding chair and just staring. She looks a lot better than she had that first day. More cleaned up and rested, but still shaken by whatever happened to her. I don't know how long I stand there by the glass door, just looking at her. It isn't until she glances over her shoulder and finally notices me that I slap on a smile and take a step closer.

"Hey," I whisper, pulling up a chair beside her. "I see you made it through the night. So I'm guessing the ghosts didn't scare you off."

"Oh, I got a little close to leaving a few times," Emily confesses, "And ghosts would be to blame for that, but they aren't exactly of the haunted house variety."

I frown. "Have you seen anyone since you've been back?"

Emily shakes her head. No. "And honestly, I'd rather keep it that way."

"Not even your mom?"

"Especially not my mom."

"Have you talked to Damon recently?" I ask.

"Things between Damon and me…it's complicated. Then again, when has it ever been uncomplicated, right? You know better than anyone else." Emily sighs loudly, swinging her feet back and forth beneath her chair. "I still have so much to sort out in my head. Focus on my daughter and getting back on track." She looks so determined and then turns to smile softly at me and I can feel a change of topic coming on. "So I got your text last night."

"Drunk texting always turns out better than drunk driving…or dialing."

"True," she laughs lightly. "So do you go out drinking often?"

"Less than when I was younger," I assure her. "It's rare for Nicky and Kelly to put aside their adult-like duties and agree to get wasted with us unless Faith talked up a good game, which she must of because last night was…man, I felt twenty-six again."

"You look so happy when you talk about them. It's a good look for you," Emily smiles gently. I want to ask her what makes her face light up so I could do it or get whatever it is for her, but before I could even think to ask, she goes on, "It was wrong of me to say what I said the other day, about things going bad for you with them. I shouldn't be mixing up what I'm going through with you and your life. Two completely different things, I'm sure."

_What are you going through? _

"Em," I whisper, "Are you in trouble?"

Looking out at the water, she replies, "Yes…maybe."

That is not what I want to hear. Leaning closer, I ask, "With who?"

"It doesn't matter," she says quickly. "I feel horrible, y'know? I used to bitch and complain like a little brat when all my mom was trying to do was help me reach my dream. And now, look at me. What would Jillie think if she was old enough to see what I'm doing? All I know is that I got myself into this and I'll find out a way to fix it. Austin, I would disappear without a trace before I'd drag you into this."

But I'm already in this. Deep.

"You know that that's the last thing I want to hear, right?" I ask her. I drag my chair closer towards her and the legs scrape against the patio, making the ugliest sound. "I think it's about time you tell me what's going on. Do you…owe someone money? I could help—"

"Austin, I can't talk about it. Not now."

"Emily."

"Do you trust me?"

I know I shouldn't. She's already admitted to being in trouble. She could've killed a man for all I know, but then she looks at me with those soft brown eyes and I know she could never intentionally hurt someone. I mean, she hurt me, but I know she didn't mean to. I also know I'm making excuses for her in my head but I don't really care.

"Of course I trust you, Em."

"Then give me time," she nearly begs, taking my hand. She reminds me of how damaged I am. Nicky and Kelly will say it aloud, but Emily makes me _feel it_ and I can't tell which sucks more. Emily squeaks out a "please" and I'm down for the count.

"Okay."

She squeezes my hand. I squeeze back.

It's fucking far from enough or okay and I know it, but I still let it go.

"Thank you," she says, giving my hand one last, firm squeeze before letting go and curling up in her chair. She sighs heavily and returns to staring blankly at the water lapping against the shore.

"So are you just going to sit here and hate on yourself for the rest of the day?"

"Probably," she says. "It's one of the few things I'm good at."

"Well, what else are you good at?"

Emily looks at me and I can tell she's trying so hard to appear happy. "Well, I've been told I make a pretty awesome pizza."

I laugh because there are traces of my Emily still in there amongst all the broken pieces and something tells me that I can do it. I can save her.

I pass on the pizza because I've already eaten my weight in Thai, but I promise her a rain check. After sitting and looking out at the water for a bit longer, we go inside and I see she's dug up the old record player and record collection. They came with the house when I bought it, but when she smiles and tells me I have good taste in classics, I just grin goofily in return. We spend the rest of the afternoon listening to oldies and talking about the past, far in the past. She makes me remember that even with all the bad, there was good too.

We lie on the floor of the living room, side by side, staring up as the sunlight filters in through the sunroof. _Belle and Sebastian Write About Love_, on vinyl, locked and loaded, spins on late in the afternoon. It's a song I actually know and get—_I Want the World to Stop. _

"You know," I whisper to her, "I went after you."

After a long pause, Emily whispers back, "I didn't know that at time."

I turn onto my side so I have a better view of her face. "You didn't make it easy. I'll tell you—Where in the World is Emily Kmetko—not a fun game." Her face turns apologetic, but I don't ant an apology. I just need to know. "If…if you did know at the time, would you've let me find you?"

The honest is enough to put everything on mute, including the music playing in the background. She looks back at me, not knowing how to answer but desperate to give me something. Before she can, Jillie starts fussing from the next room and Emily instantly goes into mom-mode, quickly sitting up.

"I have to—"

"I get it," I tell her, sitting up to. "I gotta go anyways. Work and stuff."

Emily frowns and it only makes me even more desperate to try to put her back together again. Everyone always told me I had a hero complex. I always have to be the one to step in even when I'm not needed or wanted to try to save the day. Damn me because I do.

Before Emily can say anything, I give her a quick hug, tell her to go take care of her daughter and walk out the front door. I take a long route back to Denver and I drive slower than necessary. The sun starts to set just as I arrive back at October and the lights inside the empty bar are all already on.

Joey is sitting out on the curb, smoking a cigarette and he gives me a nod. I nod back before walking inside just to find Faith and her new boy sitting at the bar. The first thing I spot is the guitar and I remember Faith saying he was a musician. If I operated on a strike system (which lucky for him I don't) that would already be strike one.

"Austin!" Faith suddenly shouts, bouncing up and off her bar stool, waving her phone frantically as she rushes over to me. "Did you get a text from Nicky and/or Kelly?"

"Nope."

"Ha, I'm the favorite," Faith says with a cheeky smile. I make my annoyance apparent on my face and try to look around her and at the dude, but Faith blocks my view, shoving her phone in my face. "Kelly has been texting me! I haven't seen her this freaked out since that time we left Parker in that grocery cart and he started rolling downhill."

Yes, Kelly had been freaked out during that incident. No, it was _not_ my fault.

"So which of my sins has Kelly found out about this time?" I ask with a groan.

"Surprisingly, it's not you," Faith says to my relief. "It's Nicky."

"So she found out about Nicky's _other_ bastard child?" I playfully wince.

Faith hits my chest, but she can't seem to fight the smile. "No. He's cooking dinner for her."

Nicky? Cook? To quote my bud, 'cooking is what cooks are for.' Silver Spoon if I've ever known one.

"Why would he do that?" I ask rather dumbly.

"Taking your advice it seems," Faith replies like she holds the answer to life's most mindboggling questions. "He's wooing her, Austin."

I caught on before she had to spell it out for me, but instead of making her aware, I just smile. Success! Nicky listening to me is usually unheard of. For the first time I feel like I'm pulling my weight in this family aside from providing the booze and humor, of course.

"So you want to introduce me to the new chew toy?"

"I'd be delighted too," Faith says pleasantly. She slides her arm through mine and leads me over to where the guy is waiting, busying himself, with a pen in his hand, scribbling on a cocktail napkin, scraggly handwriting in blue ink.

Upon closer inspection, the guy looks even more familiar. Familiar to the point where I'm sure I've seen him before. Dark hair, light eyes, kinda on the tall and gangly side. He looks like he recently took a beating. His hand right hand is wrapped up and the knuckles of his other hand, cradling the pen, are raw. There's a pretty recent cut on his forehead and a bruise on his chin.

It makes me want to roll my eye, thinking about how he looks so beat up and how it's probably the reason Faith is so drawn to him. Cuts, bruises and burns—turn-ons Faith isn't ashamed to talk about (but when is she ever?). Even more so, the emotional scars that probably comes along with the real ones. And not just dudes, but people in general. She loves the damaged and the damned. She loves being reminded that she isn't the only fucked up one in the world.

"Austin, this is Razor," Faith says cheerily. "Razor, this Austin, my boss and part-time lover."

"Nice," Razor says. He puts the pen down and spins on the barstool to fully face me with his half-lidded eyes and too charming smile. "You're lucky I don't mind tag teaming."

Right away, I don't fucking like this guy. An immediate strikeout.

More annoying than the way he looks at Faith like he knows he's so charming and the way Faith looks back and giggles even though she knows he knows he's charming is the fact that he's so familiar and I can't place my damn finger on it.

"Razor," I say his same again, hoping it'll spark something. Anything. When nothing comes to me, I just flat out ask, "We met before?"

The guy doesn't even hesitate. He laughs. "Austin Tucker, you don't remember me?"

Nope. His name. I know I've heard it before and his face, despite looking like he just walked out of a greaser brawl, all seem too familiar to me, but still. I have no clue.

"A few years back, Emily and Damon had a Christmas party when they were still living in Boulder and she introduced us," Razor explains and it triggers something in my head. Of course. "Damon and I were tight since we were kids. Emily and I got close, working at the Pizza Shack when we were teenagers. You seriously don't remember singing Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer with me? We were, like, the Karaoke Kings of the night."

I inwardly wince at the reminder. I had a knack for drinking a lot when across the room from the happy couple. I also managed to convince myself that didn't even happen. Up until now that is.

"Ha, how could I have forgotten?" I play it cool. "Razor, right. Sorry, man. That night is kinda a blur."

"You don't have to tell me twice," Razor grins. "From the bits and pieces I remember, you were flirting pretty heavily with that Dom. Heh. Once he turned all famous Damon was never shy with spending his money."

"Sure," I say, "But I still prefer Cristal."

Razor chuckles. "Man after my own heart."

It starts to come back now. I remember his longing eyes following Emily around the room as Damon and her mingled with the guests. Now it makes sense why I didn't like him the second Faith introduced us, or, well, re-introduced us. There's a nagging voice in the back of my head telling me I can't hate the guy for being like me and doing what I did, but still, I'm not a fan.

Faith is particularly quizzical, glancing between us. She's obviously trying to draw the connections herself, but her attention is stolen when her phone suddenly starts to ring.

"It's Kelly," Faith announces.

"Answer it," I say quickly.

"And pretend like we have no clue our Nicky is courting her?"

I can't help, but snigger. Nicky Russo is courting Kelly Parker. I point at my nose and then point to Faith and she tells us to play nice as she answers the phone with her innocent voice and starts to walk towards the back of the bar.

"So," Razor says, distractedly twirling the ballpoint pen between his fingers. "You and Faith seem—"

"So when's the last time you saw Emily?" I ask. It's almost too easy to talk over him. Almost as easy as it is to read him. Once the words leave my lips, he nearly flinches and drops the pen. It flies away from him and hits the ground. Slowly, I pick it up and hold it out to him. He's hiding something and I want to know what it is.

"Not for years, man," he answers.

I've always been good at telling when people are lying. Probably because I've done so much of it myself.

"Dude, don't," I warn him with a growl. I slam the pen down onto the bar and he actually flinches that time. Then I slowly slide onto the barstool beside him, letting the tension sit and simmer till he cracks. "What happen to your face and your hand?"

Because Emily has bruises of her own.

"Car accident," Razor says with scary conviction.

Is that what it had been? A car accident?

"So you've seen her? Is she okay?" Razor asks softly. I lean away from him. Does he actually think I'm going to tell him anything? Before I can express how stupid he is if he thinks he's getting anything out of me without him explain beforehand, Razor goes on, "She's like a ghost, isn't she? Like, it's hard to believe she's even there and it scares you that you could blink and she'd be gone again. Tell me I'm not the only one who felt it. How different she is."

"Wait. Slow down," I say. "Start from the beginning…"

-XX-

Razor thinks he's done all right with his life. He isn't working for a major label like Damon is, but he doesn't have corporate slaveholders telling him what his music should sound like and what his lyrics should be about. He likes his small label and feeling like his band is a family rather than business partners. He loves playing at little, intimate venues and doing small summer tours. As great as _Razor Fever_ sounds, he'd rather his smaller yet fiercely dedicated fanbase and being able to go out without getting mobbed.

Money is tight, but that's what being owner of the Pizza Shack is for. He used his payoff from his first big break and bought the little pizzeria in Boulder, where he poured his teenage sweat into, working for minimum wage. It brings in a decent amount of cash from month to month. Over all, life is good.

"Ray…"

"…Emily?"

He just finished a set in a small club on the edge of Denver. Immediately after the show, he spent maybe an hour with the band, meeting and hanging out with the fans and signing a few autographs. As he heads to his Jeep, ready to phone Faith, the girl who's been playing hard to get, keeping him on his toes as of late, he sees his old friend standing by his Jeep, waiting.

"Emily Kmetko," Razor says, rubbing at his eyes to make sure he's seeing what he thinks he sees. Razor scratches his head and looks over his shoulder before setting his eyes on her once more. "Is that really you?"

"No. I'm a figment of your imagination," she says jokingly. "You're asleep. We're both at the Pizza Shack and you fell asleep at the register like you always do."

"Not always," he argues, but then grins. "Twice a week. Tops."

She rolls her eyes. "Same ol' Razor. Apparently, from the chanting of the crowd in there, you still go by Razor."

"Why part with a good thing, right?" he says, holding out his arms. "And I'm assuming you still go by Emily _Kmetko_, right? B'cause if you and Damon got hitched all the way out there in California and without inviting me then I don't know if you deserve this hug I'm about to give you."

It's dark in the alleyway where his truck is parked, but he still sees the way she stiffens when he mentions Damon.

"I don't know about _deserving_ a hug, but I could really use one right now," Emily says. Without question, Razor goes right over and pulls her into his arms. It feels like a lifetime has passed since he's seen Emily let alone held her in his arms.

"So what are you doing here?" he asks. "And where's Dae?"

"He's back in LA, doing what big corporate big shots do. Producing records. Making stars. That sort of thing," Emily says. "I don't know why I'm back, really. I just felt like I…I needed it. I miss everyone so much."

"Well, I can't speak for 'everyone' since I don't really know or talk to any of the others anymore, but _I_ missed you," Razor says. "How about we grab a bite? I am starving."

She laughs. "It's like midnight."

"That's why the gods of rock invented the twenty-four hour diner and I know a good one not too far from here," Razor says, bouncing over to the passenger side of his car and yanking the door open for her. Emily slides in and he shuts the door after her. Razor rounds the front and gets behind the wheel, quickly starting up the engine.

"So how did we sound in there?" Razor asks. "And don't sugarcoat it. Be as brutal as possible."

"I liked it. It reminded me of how you used to scribble lyrics on pizza boxes and the back of receipts, even on your arms and management would always tell you it was 'unsanitary'. It's nice to see a musician not sell out," she says with an edge of bitterness to her voice. He's about to ask to what musician she's alluding to, but then Emily laughs and says, "You did totally forget the words to that third song and just started humming along though, didn't you?"

"Guilty," Razor chuckles as he pulls out of the parking stall and zooms out onto the street. "It's good to have you back, Em."

"It's good to be back, Ray."

Razor smiles at Emily and her smiling back at him distracts him from all the questions he has for her. It distracts him so much that he doesn't even notice the truck that comes out of nowhere and slams straight into them.

-XX-

"It was the first car accident I've ever been in," Razor shakily explains, his eyes glazed over as he unconsciously picks at the corner of his cocktail napkin. "It's a good thing Faith cancelled our date because I was in the hospital anyways."

"So Jillie wasn't in the Jeep during the accident, right?" I ask, snapping Razor out of his dazed state.

He blinks at me and frowns. "Who's Jillie?"

So Jillie wasn't with Emily when she went to see Razor at the club. That means Jillie must have been staying with someone else, someone who lives in or near the city that Emily trusts. But if she isn't even willing to go see her mom then who could that have been? She might have gotten all those bruises and been so shaken from the car accident, but then she would have had to go pick up Jillie before ending up at my place. But why didn't the person who was watching Jillie insist Emily see a doctor instead of running to me? What is going on?

Damn it. I think I'm even more confused than I was before.

"Look, I'm sorry, man. I don't know what else to say. If I had all the answers then for sure I'd tell you, but I don't," Razor says, tensely twisting his fingers. "I woke up at the hospital and she was just gone. Poof. Disappeared. Like I hallucinated the entire thing. Until you came along, I was almost completely convinced I did."

"That's the last time you saw her?"

"It was the first time I've seen her in years and the last. I swear. Cross my heart and everything," Razor says sincerely. He then eyes me carefully. "So you know where she is then? She's okay?"

"Yeah, she's safe," I assure him, "But I still have no idea what happened to her."

"You and I both, bro," Razor says, running his fingers through his hair, looking just as frustrated as I feel. "Usually I'd think five o'clock is too early to drink, but I could sure use one right now. I'll buy the first round."

"Nah, I appreciate you telling me what you know," I tell him and I actually mean it. "Drinks are on the house."

Just as I pull off the tops of a couple beer bottles, Faith comes bouncing back over, loudly recounting her entire conversation with Kelly, moment by moment. A badass at storytelling, Faith tells it so I could just imagine Kelly's confusion over why Nicky was being so nice to her and accusing us of playing some practical joke on her. It brings me away from this thing with Emily and I appreciate that if only for a couple minutes.

Because we're so close, we mastered the communication via glances thing and I know when Faith gives me this look she's asking me what I think of Razor. Honestly, I'd rather her date one of those guys who vie for her attention at the bar. Razor failed my first impression test and I'd rather not have my best friend dating a guy who had a thing for the girl I have a thing for. It reminds me too much of all the nonsense that went down at the Rock, but I do appreciate his help and he doesn't seem like a horrible guy. I give her a look back. One of approval.

When Faith and Razor start talking about something else, I get lost in my thoughts and more importantly, my hunger to know what drove Emily to Razor and then to me. If there's one thing I learned from what Razor has told me, it's that neat little coincidences like this are rare. If I want to find out what's really going on with Emily, I'm going to need to dig. Dig deep and forcefully and if I need to tackle a few demons to get there then so be it.

It's decided. Tomorrow I'm going back to the Rock. I need help. I need to talk to Payson.

* * *

A/N: In an attempt to breathe life back into the forums on this site, I started one: **MIOBI Addicts Anonymous Or, Well, Not So Anonymous** where we can talk about the newest episodes, ships, brainstorm and whatever else your little hearts desire. Check it out and toss in your two cents. I'm getting tired of only having LCTD to fight about fake-gymnasts and fake-relationships with. :P

_Thoughts on this chapter? Review please. _


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